


Restless Nights

by Apeygirl



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 141,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apeygirl/pseuds/Apeygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short summary: Chloe's attempt to escape with and subdue Davis has lasting consequences that threaten to tear lives and friendships apart. Dealing directly with Season Eight's Doomsday at first, then going AU for kind of an alternate season 9.</p><p>Lovely cover art by Bkwurm1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a very specific request with a very detailed checklist of what they did and didn't want to see. It's basically a rewrite of Doomsday, then off to its own world. Fair warning: even though there are Chloe/Davis elements, this is a Chloe/Clark fic by request. It was started in 2012, then abandoned for years. I am archiving it here to motivate me to finally complete it. Comments and love would certainly help, if you are so moved.

 

_ _

_"The muttering retreats_  
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels"  
  
**Prologue**  


_Please... hold me._  
  
That's how it started. The Beast inside him wanted to claw Its way out and there was only one way to keep It in, to keep him calm. It wasn't so much her touching him as her convincing him she needed to be touched by him, needed him. Light strokes and words didn't work after a while. He needed more than that to swallow the monster. And the Beast's will to get out seemed to be getting stronger than Davis' resolve to keep it in. So she stepped up.   
  
_Davis, I'm scared. Please... hold me._  
  
Because he wouldn't keep It at bay it for himself, he wouldn't even do it for the scores of innocent people out there. They could make him try, but not make him succeed. He would do it for her. In the end, it was just her, the only thing between the Beast and the world outside.  
  
_Look at me. Look at my face. Davis, I'm scared. Please... hold me._  
  
She'd tried to explain it, analyze it, figure out the whys and hows of it so she could always get it right, always keep It caged. At first, she thought it was some sort of obedience, some leftover instinct of the ways Brainiac had tried to draw them together, as if the Beast was a dog, only tame for Its master. Then she wondered if her meteor power was no longer latent, if something in her touch soothed him if she concentrated. But the truth was much simpler.   
  
Davis Bloome had been in and out of foster homes, unwanted, too damaged for friends, too scared for lovers. No one had ever cared for him, save her. He'd had no one to fight this for, save her. And maybe this wouldn't have happened without Brainiac pulling them toward each other, but that damage was done. She'd started caring for him and found it hard to stop even when he frightened her so badly she wanted to run screaming from whatever cheap motel they ended up in.  
  
But she wouldn't do that. And that wasn't all for Davis. That wasn't even all for those innocent people out there. That was for Clark. She tried not to think about that because, if things worked out for the best, she'd never see Clark again. The Beast could never hurt him. So she poured all that into her plea, stroked his face, stared into his reddening eyes, begged him to hold her until he pulled her into his lap, buried his face in her neck, and wept.  
  
"That's it. Don't let go," she breathed.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm so... so..."  
  
"Hey..." She pulled back and smoothed his forehead. "We beat it. There's nothing to be sorry for. We're okay. "  
  
"But I could have..."  
  
"You didn't," she interrupted softly, gathering him in, hoping this was working. His eyes had cleared. But it wasn't over. His skin was still burning hot, sometimes rippling, shifting with the sickening sound of the hard shell of the Beast trying to force its way out. "You won't hurt me," she said, almost sang it, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You won't hurt anyone." You weren't supposed to show the Beast fear any more than you would a rabid dog. She'd learned that.  
  
"I've hurt you," he hissed. "I've taken you away from every..."  
  
"No," she crooned, not letting him release the guilt. Guilt led to fear, fear to anger, and anger to the very thing these embraces had been preventing these restless nights. "I chose to go with you. I chose to leave." She did. That much was true. She tried to say the next thing he needed, that she wanted to be here. But it wouldn't come out.  
  
"And I'm supposed to believe that?" His body shook as he ripped away from her.   
  
"Davis..." She slid from the bed to the floor, trying to scramble upwards, get control back.  _No fear, no fear, no fear..._  
  
"I'm supposed to believe you choose this, these rat infested rooms and fucking squalor and hiding." His breath and words came out choppy and strained as he paced away, gripped the bathroom door jamb, warped the cheap wood with his hands.  
  
She got to her feet, taking several shaky breaths. She was losing tonight. And that couldn't happen. Not again. "I chose to go with you," she said again, and loudly, hoping that would keep the tremble out of her voice. And she tried again to say she wanted to be here, but couldn't squeeze out the words. "With you, Davis," she repeated, taking a step forward, her eyes on his back, something rippling beneath his shirt, beneath his skin.  
  
He turned slowly. "You shouldn't be here." His eyes shifted. For a moment, she froze, thinking of Clark and red Kryptonite and how his eyes flashed those rare times she saw him on it. Davis' change wasn't like that, it wasn't flashy or bright. His eyes filled, a thick blood red that blocked out the light, blocked out his usual dark brown, and she knew he felt it, felt her fear. "Chloe..." His voice was roughened, deep now, and she knew this wasn't working anymore. "Run."  
  
She shook her head and took another step. "No." Because she knew this was coming, knew these tearful embraces were doing less and less, knew Davis needed more of her.  
  
"I can't... hold it much longer," he growled. "You need to..."  
  
"I need to stay with you," she said steadily, meaning it for Clark and for that world outside, but hoping Davis would find what he needed in her words. And if that wasn't helping...  
  
She gripped his neck, panicking slightly at the heat and the trembling under his skin. She'd known it would come to this. Deep down, she'd known. So she pulled him down, squeezed her eyes shut, plastered her body to his, pressed her lips hard against his, waited for some sign that this --  _God, this now_  -- would be worth it.   
  
She felt his lips stir against hers, his skin cool to something nearly human in temperature, start to slicken with sweat, as he gripped her back, hands running to all the places they'd never been. And, God help her, she moaned, hot shame filling her at the sound of it.  
  
She told herself there was no reason to feel shame. Nothing stopping this. She wasn't married -- newly divorced, really. Jimmy had made it abundantly clear that what they had meant less than nothing to him now. And honestly, what was it to her? The only thought in her head when she left was Clark.   
  
She pushed that thought away hastily as Davis pulled at her bottom lip. Hadn't she left with him? Hadn't she made that decision? Davis would be all she had now. She pulled away slightly, meeting his eyes, back to their usual brown now, so deep it was almost black. She could learn to appreciate him, appreciate this, know that it was worth it for the world and for Clark.  
  
She pushed Clark away again and held Davis' gaze, unblinking as she gripped his shirt and pulled him backward to the bed. There would be no hesitation, no shame... and no going back.

********

  
_"When the evening is spread out against the sky_

_Like a patient etherized upon a table..."_    
  
**Chapter One**    


Maybe it was the littered train yard, the run-down car, the seedy decay that seemed to personify Edge City. But even the stars seemed malevolent tonight and Chloe squinted at them, trying to see something less ominous as Davis pointed out constellations, told the stories behind them.   
  
Of course, she knew them. With her childhood hunger for Greek mythology and her time scouring the skies side kicking for an alien, she knew the constellations and the stories behind them as well as some astronomers. But she let him tell her anyway. She needed the distraction.   
  
They were running out of options... and money soon enough. Even with Chloe's savings emptied and what little Davis had, they could go for maybe a week more without touching the money Chloe had set aside for wherever they settled... if they ever did. They'd traded the SUV they'd started off in to a salvage yard for one-fifty cash and this mustard-yellow heap they were lying on, thinking it might burn through less fuel. That was dead wrong. Stopping here was less about gulping down takeout and star gazing than it was letting the thing cool off. At least the hood was warm.   
  
"Maybe it's sleep deprivation, but I can't exactly see a toga-clad woman in the stars up there," she said lightly, encouraging Davis to keep talking, keep telling her things, even ones she already knew. This was the kind of thing that kept him calm, gave him that feeling of control and contentment. It had been days now since the Beast had appeared, had even tried to, not even a sign of him, just as long as she kept this up, kept him complacent.   
  
"It's Demeter," Davis said lowly. "And her daughter, Persephone, was taken by Hades to the underworld."   
  
She glanced at him, then frowned up at the stars, knowing where this was going.   
  
"And Demeter -- she enlisted the gods' help to find her daughter, but when Hades offered Persephone her chance at freedom, to everyone's surprise, Persephone chose to live underground with the dark prince."   
  
Chloe supposed that was up for interpretation, though she saw the parallels Davis seemed to be drawing with his more romantic view. Some would say Hades tricked her into eating a pomegranate seed, knowing that anyone who ate the fruits of the Underworld could never truly leave, that it was just enough to force her to return to him every winter. Others say she chose to eat it, forcing a compromise between Demeter and Hades. If she was Persephone in his mind, then she did choose it, chose to go away with him. But, in her case, there was no compromise, no springtime return to the world above. And she supposed, like Persephone, she would have to make the best of her Hell. She glanced at him, noting that it didn't have to be hell.   
  
There were times, these last days, when she could look at it differently, as if this was the romantic runaway story Davis wanted to see. If she could take everything before this away, all the reasons why, keep the beast at bay forever, then what was she? She was a woman, running off with a handsome man who seemed to love her beyond reason.   
  
Davis chuckled softly. "We're actually gonna pull this off, aren't we? Find someplace to...slow down, build a life together."   
  
She turned more fully to him, forced a smile. "As long as we can keep the gods from hunting us." She let the smile drop as he stared back into the sky, knowing Clark would never stop. He'd said as much. So she would just have to count on that, keep one eye open for the rest of her life, hiding from him -- from  _Clark,_  of all people. It still hurt like hell.   
  
And slowing down? Settling somewhere? The more she thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. She definitely couldn't see them cozying up in some sweet, picket fence neighborhood with happy families and unlocked doors. It would ratchet up her fear of the Beast coming out to play even more. Maybe they'd settle somewhere like this. Somewhere just terrible enough that hardly anyone wanted to live there.   
  
"We should stay here tonight," she said, trying to wipe off her frown.   
  
"In a train yard?" Davis chuckled.   
  
"Why not? It's a warm night. It's quiet here, seems relatively safe. I don't mind a little car camping if it saves some of that motel money for if we settle down."   
  
He turned to her. "You mean when we settle down."   
  
"Yes. Of course." She smiled... or tried to.   
  
Davis' hand slid to hers and she shivered just a little as his thumb made circles on her palm. She had to keep telling herself there was no shame in it. Wasn't she simply making the best of her hell? There was no shame in the harsh gasps she failed to keep in that first night, the quickening of her blood when he drew her to him in the nights since. There was just no room for shame. He was all she had now. And maybe she hadn't meant to feel anything as he moved inside her, hadn't wanted to, but she had. A physical release to replace the emotional release she couldn't allow herself -- and couldn't allow him to see for fear of upsetting him. Because she knew what upsetting him led to.   
  
He tugged on her hand and she slid closer to him. If tonight, she came undone again, then maybe she needed that to make this easier.   
  
***********************   
  
Tess Mercer never had it easy. Just never.   
  
While other children played and laughed, she taught herself to read to get out of a squalid swamp house in the bayou, knocked around at every turn, in and out of hospitals and free clinics. While other teenagers partied, she was working her way through Harvard while still wearing braces to be damned sure she never went back there. While other young adults took post-grad trips backpacking across Europe and experimenting with legal drugs in Amsterdam, her vacay fun was being kidnapped on an island, watching her friend die, meeting Oliver Queen, who turned out to be her first and worst and last relationship. Of course, that didn't compare to the outright stupidity and hero worship that was her fixation on Lex Luthor when she started up with Luthorcorp. Sure, the man saved her life, gave her money and power beyond what she ever dreamed of. But he also implanted fucking spyware in her eyes. If that hadn't fixed her little crush, his later attempt to kill her would have polished it off.   
  
Yet all that was almost nothing to the rest of this year in Smallville. She truly understood how this place could fuck a person up irrevocably. Her Luthorcorp predecessors were a testament to that. She was hard pressed to even understand how she got here.

She started out with control of Luthorcorp, now she was sharing it with Oliver Queen, of all people, who she still fairly despised.   
  
She started out trying to find Lex. Now Lex was dead, not that she was mourning the bastard, though she was starting to understand exactly how he became such a megalomaniacal snake.

Her attempts to get Clark Kent to trust her with the worst-kept secret in history kept proving unsuccessful. That might be the thing that made her almost -- just almost -- understand Lex, to talk to someone over and over and know that they're lying so baldly and badly. It was downright insulting and never failed to make her blood boil.   
  
There was also the fact that aliens existed. That was something she spent many sleepless nights trying to wrap her head around as the ramifications of that seemed both horrifying and wonderful. Obviously, the man-creature that was Davis Bloome was horrifying and she'd done everything in her power to destroy him as Clark was about as ready to do something about that reign of destruction as he was to admit what he was. And that, perhaps, made her angriest. Because Clark could be something so wonderful. He could save this dying hole of a planet. He'd almost made her feel like that girl again, over-educated and hopelessly idealistic, bent on saving the world in a lab coat.   
  
But Clark... She was starting to think that Clark just a passive fool. When it came down to it, she supposed Clark could be counted on to save the odd life, then lie horribly about it. But that seemed about all there was to him. He had no vision. He had no drive. He had no purpose. She had all of those things, but not a damned place to put them, especially now. Because now she hadn't just lost the hellbeast in man's clothing, having only traces of radiation to possibly track him, but the Orb. The very thing that gave her hope in this mess.   
  
"The orb," she breathed, staring at the bent case in the middle of her ruined vault, torn open as if the metal were paper. "Someone stole the orb."   
  
"No one could have broken in here without..."   
  
"You just said that the system went down," she snapped, tossing the case down. It was this X, whoever that was. The one who took the crystal, with a cryptic email telling her she wasn't ready yet. She wondered why X didn't take the Orb as well, at the time, had gone to check on it, but found it still there... though useless. She'd salvaged both in the Arctic in her search for Lex. But the Orb had been nothing more than a mysterious bauble at the time. Until it started speaking and glowing, that is.   
  
"Only for a few seconds," Rogers was saying.   
  
That could be enough, couldn't it? Whoever X was, they got the crystal from under lock and key. But she looked at the debris. It seemed as if...   
  
And then Rogers said it. "But, Miss Mercer, you should know that our security believes the door was blown off from the inside."   
  
Somehow, that seemed worse.

The orb had made her think, at first, that she was crazy, hearing voices from a glowing ball. And while the obvious comparisons to  _Horton Hears a Who were fitting,_ this was no child's tale. There was a darkness to it, but also hope. It called her the savior of Kandor and promised to change the world. This Kandor could change the world, she believed, with her help. She'd done her part. She'd destroyed the black crystal that would have sent the Beast away. It said Clark, or Kal-El, must fulfill a prophecy and destroy the Beast himself.  _But he'd done nothing that she could see._  It didn't matter how she tried to push him. That orb was to be the world's only hope with Clark proving so useless.   
  
She turned to Rogers, glaring. "You have no idea how many lives are at stake. Find that orb."   
  
She glanced over her ruined safe as he moved out. The orb... it wouldn't abandon her, not after all she'd done in its service. Somehow, someone had done this. She just had to figure out who, on top of every other fucking thing.   
  
No. Tess Mercer never had it easy. And that didn't look likely to change any time soon.   
  
******************************   
  
Chloe perched on the bumper, staring into the open trunk of the car, assessing the food and supplies. She wasn't sure they'd be able to keep buying takeout if they wanted to have any money to settle with... if that happened.   
  
She took a deep breath and kept her mind on the practicalities of the moment. They had a half-case of water, some apples and oranges still, peanut butter crackers, cheese crackers, pop-top cans of tuna salad, and those awful Chef Boyardee meals in plastic containers, which were all for Davis as he seemed unreasonably thrilled to eat them, even cold. Her dad's cooking skills, or lack thereof, had her eating the horrible stuff for most meals, growing up, so much that she couldn't stomach it now. If she ever doubted Davis had a rough childhood before, him calling Chef Boyardee the "good stuff" sealed it.   
  
He'd shared some of that childhood with her on their long drives, though she often interrupted to change the subject, touch him, or make jokes, trying to keep his mood steady. She didn't want him looking back, getting angry, and... what might follow. But she'd taken it in -- the homes with padlocked refrigerators and pantries, the homes with older boys or foster fathers who asserted themselves by beating him or worse, the disinterested and neglectful or harsh and overly religious parents, and, of course, the black-outs that followed the beatings, the touchings, and the hungry nights.   
  
Knowing all this only affirmed her resolve to make this work. She could keep Clark safe, keep the world safe, and, as for Davis, give him the things he never had. That made this easier, too, how much he needed someone to care even a little. And she'd always been an outright sucker for being needed.   
  
"You better not be eyeing my beefaroni."   
  
"I am," she said, closing the trunk, "with deep disgust." She turned and leaned on it. "What's the diagnosis?"   
  
He swiped at his cheek with a rag, but only seemed to make it dirtier. "I think we got screwed on our trade in. There's not a fluid this thing won't leak."   
  
They'd spent not only the night, but all day in the train yard now. Luckily, no one had been around save a gang of punks drinking beer three tracks over as they tried to sleep, curled up in the back. Some cops busted up the party, but left them alone as this car was just ugly enough to be passed over as abandoned. She supposed that was one upside to the car. It didn't balance out the gigantic down-side of it heating up the minute they tried to drive ten feet. Davis had been under the hood all day while she'd been organizing their supplies. "Can you fix it?"   
  
"Not without a new engine and years of training I don't have." He looked frustrated. She couldn't have that.   
  
She tried for a smile. "Look at you. You're filthy." She opened the trunk and pulled out a box of wet wipes. They'd certainly come in handy with no shower to be had. She moved closer and wiped his face. "Maybe that can be your new trade once we get to Nowheresville, USA."   
  
"Might bring in more money than being an EMT." He chuckled. "I don't know. I know very little. But it was bone dry, so I filled the oil and coolant and, I think, if we keep replacing both as we go, we can nudge this heap along a little longer."   
  
She tossed the dirty wipe back in the trunk, though she might as well throw it to the ground amid the broken bottles and cigarette butts, and started on his hands. "Well, we'll grab some spares at the next gas station, then, and maybe a room tonight. You're definitely going to need a real shower."   
  
He pressed his lips to her forehead as she wiped the grease from his knuckles. "That a proposition?"   
  
She checked her slight stiffening and relaxed against him. "A horribly indecent one," she said, keeping her tone playful. They hadn't slept together last night, or they had, but with nothing but sleeping. The backseat and semi public place didn't exactly set the mood, even for Davis. As for her, she'd been relieved for the respite. Though she'd been telling herself there was no shame, the nights since the first had left her so confused and she spent last night wide awake with him wrapped around her, doing the very thing she'd been avoiding -- thinking about it. In the weeks since she left, she'd largely avoided stewing on her situation as it would drive her to tears or outright insanity. But when the punks and the cops had gone and Davis had quieted into deep, even breaths behind her, she'd been unable to avoid it.   
  
She'd never call herself sexually experienced, even after more than two years, on and off, with Jimmy. She couldn't say Jimmy made her see stars, but she'd always figured that was all hype, anyway. Building a relationship had been more important to her. That was what bothered her here. As much as she refused to beat herself up for slipping into these nights with Davis, as much as she told herself it was forgivable and even necessary, there was this piece of her that wondered if she was truly a good person, had been a good fiancee or, briefly, a good wife.

With this situation, with this man always on the verge of becoming a monster... This is what it took? She'd always looked at those people that could only get off in public or by being whipped or bound or humiliated as somehow sick. So what was she now, joining the ranks of sexual deviants?   
  
She had to stop doing that -- thinking, that is. An entire life of over-analyzing was hard to turn off. But it was a good thing she was getting used to touching him, being touched by him. Really, it wasn't as hard as she thought. Maybe it was made easier by genuine sympathy, by the necessity of it, or, she had to admit, the attraction that had been there from the start. As much as Brainiac had a part in drawing them together, the fact that she was a red blooded woman and he was a rather gorgeous man didn't hurt then or now.   
  
None of this was what she saw when she dreamed of her future. But she'd adjusted her expectations all her life. She'd accepted that her mother was never coming back at the age of eight, when she made her first badly cooked dinner. She'd respected her father's decision to move to the relative safety and quiet of Rhode Island when she started college, even though it had him missing every event in her life, even her literal disaster of a wedding. She'd made her peace with the idea that Clark would never see her the way she wanted him to years ago now. She'd swallowed her bitterness when Lex took over the Daily Planet in the hopes he'd someday relinquish control. She'd adapted when he snapped her dreams in two and it became clear The Daily Planet would never be free of Luthor influence, with Mercer still there and still so uncannily similar to Lex. She'd accustomed herself to Jimmy's need to constantly be bolstered to be sure she kept him as he was the only thing in her life that qualified as normal and safe. And, months ago now, she'd reconciled herself to the idea that she didn't do enough to hold on to him and decided that she never could have. Maybe that was for the best. He was probably safer addicted to painkillers than in her life. Maybe she wasn't meant to have anything normal.   
  
So now she was reinventing herself, readjusting her dreams, all over again. She had to let go of those last three things she thought she could have: the city she'd always loved and never wanted to leave, the cousin who was really the last bit of family that remained available to her, and Clark in her life, always in her life. None of that now. It was a good thing she was used to letting things go after all these years.   
  
"Sun's down." She patted his hand, trying to cheer herself up. She could do this. She could keep moving on. "We should get moving if we want to find a motel that's even a little safe in this city."   
  
He sighed and squeezed her before pulling her to the passenger side door, opening it for her. At least, with Davis around, she'd never open a door for the rest of her life. If you looked past all the other horrors, he was insanely well-mannered. Maybe that was what attracted her to him as well, how kind he could be, how gentlemanly at times. It made her think of Clark when they were... She cut that off abruptly. She'd resolved not to think of Clark unless he appeared before her. It just made every step away from him harder.   
  
She tossed Davis a smile as she got in... or began to. The both of them froze at the metallic thunk of something hitting the hood. She barely had time to register that it was an arrow before it drew back slightly, as if clinging to the inside of the hood, as a dark wire attached to it grew taut. Her eyes followed the line to the train trestle and the shadowy figure perched on it, but were drawn quickly back to the car as a pair of fishnet-clad legs landed hard on the roof, shattering the windshield.   
  
"Wait! No!" It all happened so fast then. Davis tried to push her away, as if anyone there would hurt her, but Dinah only had eyes for him, jumping down from the roof and flattening him to the ground. Chloe had landed there as well and looked up in horror as Oliver zipped down the line. "Don't!" She could see Davis' eyes reddening now as he grunted, spat out a mouthful of gravel. "Stop!" She scrambled to her feet, tried to move toward him, just touch him, but Oliver gripped her around the waist, pulled her back. "Please!"   
  
Davis met her eyes then, veins standing out on his neck as he stood and tossed Dinah off him like a ragdoll. "Chloe!"   
  
She struggled in Oliver's grip. She could stop it. It wasn't too late. "Davis!" She ripped free and almost made it when she felt a sharp sting on the back of her neck. She barely registered a flash of red before her body went limp. She swayed, ready to meet the gravel when she felt arms again and Davis...   
  
The last thing she saw was Davis crumpling to the ground. 

***********

_This fic has quite the to-write list..._  
  
_Chloe sleeps with Davis on the run to keep the beast at bay? Check!_  
_Keep the smut down to an R? Check!_

_And yes, as the show has it, Chloe and Davis did stay in a train yard for two nights. Heh. I think there must have been an editing mistake and the first scene with them was supposed to come later. Anyway, I went with it. That heap car they were on didn't look like it had much going for it._  
  
_Just want to add that I spent 2 years in foster care and my foster parents were wonderful, caring people. My aunt has foster parented three sets of kids and loved them all. You do hear horror stories and some people are in it for the money, but don't let that have you thinking all foster parents are evil. But Davis' obviously were or he wouldn't be such a broken man, even beast aside._


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Doomsday, but going off canon, bit by bit, starting here.

 

 

  **Banner by Bkwurm1**

 

_Streets that follow like a tedious argument_

_Of insidious intent_  
To lead you to an overwhelming question….   
  
**Chapter Two**  

Where was she?  
  
Vibration. That was the first thing she registered. She felt it under her, a steady low-level hum, before she heard the hissing. 

_No. Not hissing. Whispering._  
  
Oliver, Dinah, Bart... Had Clark been there at the trainyard, too? She didn't know. Before she could even marvel at their presence, Davis had started to... 

_But he hadn't, had he?_  

She wished she could get it all straight, but her mind felt as heavy as her head. Her limbs felt stuck to the ground. Or the floor. The cold, grooved, metal floor. Where the hell were they? 

  
It took some effort, but she opened her eyes, waited for her vision to clear on a... backpack, with a rock in it, of all things. Once that came into focus, so did Davis, zip-tied and unconscious at Dinah's feet. And Bart. She could barely hear their voices over that hum, let alone what they were saying. Oliver was pacing behind them.   
  
Her eyes flew to Davis again. He was still out, but not for long.   
  
"What's going on?" she said blearily, pushing herself to sit.   
  
All three turned to her. No Clark.   
  
"Sorry about the tranq, beautiful," Bart said as she tried to stay upright. "It, uh, kind of snuck up on you super fast."   
  
"Tranq," she breathed, looking around. She had a few of those in her bag of tricks. More of a just-in-case. Nice to know they wouldn't be an option now. "You know, anything you do to him," she said dully, "he becomes immune to. So... tranquilizers... aren't exactly an option for later, ao thanks for that," she finished on a grunt, trying to stand, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing. She hadn't, really, but neither did they.   
  
Bart appeared at her side, holding her up.   
  
"Then it's a good thing there won't be one," Oliver said, stepping forward. "Not for either of them." He nodded to Davis.   
  
She shook her head, still bleary. "That's impossible. Are all of you insane? Anything you kill him with, he becomes tolerant to. Nothing on this earth can..."   
  
"Which is why we're putting him under it," Oliver said. "In Clark's words."   
  
"Where are we?"   
  
"Luthorcorp's geothermal plant," Bart said next to her. "Chloe, it's the only way to destroy it."   
  
"But you can't... where's Clark?" She looked around. No answer. "You did find a way to kill him, didn't you?" Was that even possible? She took a step to Oliver. "And Clark wouldn't go along with it." This wasn't the first time Oliver had stepped outside the lines. But Dinah and Bart... That was a surprise. And not a nice one. She pulled away from Bart.   
  
"No," Dinah said. "He wanted to split the Kryptonian from the human first."   
  
"Black kryptonite," she breathed. If they could split him, then only the beast had to die and Davis would be free. That rock... Her eyes flew to the bag. That was it. They'd brought it here, so... She stared at the three of them. "So why haven't you done it?"   
  
"Only one glitch in his plan -- the whole beast part," Oliver said. "I don't think any of us, including Clark, has a chance of wrangling that beast into the ground."   
  
She let out a breath, backing towards Davis. "So you're going to do it while he's weak... while he's Davis?"  
  
They were silent.  
  
"No!" she said hotly.  
  
Oliver stepped forward again. "It's the only option we have."   
  
"No, it isn't. There has to be another..."   
  
"There isn't, Chloe." She turned to find Davis sitting up. "Maybe this is the only way," he said with deadened eyes.   
  
"I don't believe that." She crouched down to him. "Listen, we can find another way." She turned to the others. "As long as I stay with him, he doesn't change. It's been working. If you just kill him..."   
  
"They have to. Chloe, it's not working anymore," Davis said dully. "Less and less. You know it, too."   
  
"Well, we... it's enough to buy some time," she pleaded. "What about Clark's plan? Davis doesn't deserve..."   
  
"I've killed, Chloe. Maybe I didn't mean to, at first. But, after a while... You know what I did."   
  
"It doesn't mean you deserve..."   
  
"Chloe," he said, his eyes reddening, "you're not working."   
  
"Davis, just focus on me, okay?" She gripped his shoulder, trying to keep her voice low and calm when everything in her was screaming. "We'll get through this together, just like we always have."   
  
"I'm sorry," he said, his body shaking under her hand. "It's too late."   
  
It all happened so fast. She felt the roar making its way through his body before she heard it, then Oliver was grabbing her, pulling her away. Bart and Dinah rushed to either side of Davis, but he threw them off like ragdolls, the zip tie ripping in two. Oliver pushed her behind him and notched an arrow as Davis bore down on them, his skin rippling.   
  
And all she could think was that couldn't be how it ended. Not after everything. She barely hesitated before she dove for the bag, for the stone. She didn't know what would happen, but she knew for sure that Davis didn't deserve to be trapped inside this beast, whatever it might do. She rushed to him, pressed the stone to his chest just as his arm, spikes already breaking through the skin, lashed out and pushed her to the ground.   
  
She opened her eyes, the back of her head pounding as she fought the blackness stealing over her, saw the flash of light illuminate the room as Davis fell away from the beast.  _It worked._  She didn't feel the relief she should, more a bone deep terror as the beast turned away from Davis, spotting her. She saw three of Oliver's arrows land on it and fall right off like twigs as it kept moving to her. She saw Oliver himself thrown over its shoulder, Dinah kicked to a wall.   
  
"Hey! Ugly!" Bart appeared behind It, kicking an empty drum at It. "Over here!"   
  
It turned.   
  
And that was the last thing she saw.   
  
*****************************   
  
Tess Mercer bathed in hot water and epsom salt. Nothing so feminine as lavender and aloe for her. No. She had to end almost every day soaking in bitter, cloudy water with scrapes and bruises covering her body. What a charmed life.   
  
She swiped angrily at her still-bleeding lip with a knuckle, probably making it worse. Not that she could bring herself to care. She took a deep gulp of her cheapest scotch. She didn't deserve the good stuff tonight. She'd failed in every possible way.   
  
The orb was lost. The beast was lost. Lois Lane had, apparently, disappeared into thin air, not that she considered that a loss. It was more a curiosity.   
  
Her security team at The Planet, which was about as useful as her security team at the manor, had graciously come to check on her when the feed had her unconscious on the floor in the Daily Planet basement. She hadn't come down there for a fight. She shouldn't have picked one. She was running blind without that orb and she knew it only too well. Yes, Lane had been caught traipsing around the mansion in a skimpy French maid costume in their first meeting. That should have been her first clue that she was hassling the wrong reporter. Not because of the subterfuge, but the method. She'd worked around Lane long enough that she barely made a move unless it was painfully obvious.   
  
Clark. It had to have been Clark. He was the alien, after all. And he seemed to have some idea that he alone should control all alien technology. Never mind that the orb had chosen her. She'd find him and... and...   
  
And what? What the hell could she do? Without the orb to guide her, she had nothing. Hell, even Lane had just disappeared! Of course, that was likely the work of the so-called Blur. Clark must have come in and taken her off. So why did that feel like it wasn't the answer? She'd just winked out like a light according to the footage and...

Damn it. She just didn't care.  
  
Tess stood, a sort of calm settling over her as the water slid off her.   
  
She didn't care. And it was the best she'd felt in a year.   
  
********************************   
  
Voices. She heard voices, low and indistinct, but getting louder. She tried to open her eyes, but a jolt of blinding pain shot through her head.   
  
"...kind of led him right into the middle of the river, but I don't know how much time that buys us."   
  
Bart. Good. He was okay.   
  
"Maybe just enough to get a plan of attack."   
  
Clark. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and tried to sit up, but almost hit the floor again when she felt an arm under her. She opened her eyes and there he was.   
  
"Chloe, are you okay?"   
  
She heard the others, groaning and stirring around her. "I think so." She sat up fully and stared at him, elation and sadness warring within her. She never thought she'd see him again. But now, with that beast on the loose, that could still be true.   
  
"Bart said you used the black kryptonite."   
  
"I did. I split him from the beast," she said blearily. It was her second time unconscious in an hour, after all. "It was... what you wanted, right?" She really needed someone to tell her she did the right thing. Because she wasn't so sure. With the Beast attached to Davis, there was still more than a need for destruction inside it. But now... "I unleashed the beast," she said miserably, staring at Davis, still unconscious on the floor. How had that happened? She was supposed to contain It.   
  
Clark tilted his head, as if listening for something. Then he put his hands under her and stood, pulling her up with him. "I'll get him back here," he said looking around at Bart, then Oliver and Dinah, who were pushing themselves to stand, looking bloodied and broken. "But I still need you to detonate the explosives."   
  
"Clark, you get him down that tunnel," Oliver said, "we'll take care of the rest."   
  
"Can I trust you?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
He turned to Bart. "I'll take Chloe to Isis. Can you get Davis there?"   
  
Bart nodded. "Not known for my super strength there, Buddy, but I can handle it."   
  
Chloe opened her mouth, ready to say it should be the other way around. Bart could carry her more easily. But Clark gripped her tighter and everything around melted into a blur as they moved through the streets. It seemed like only seconds before she felt him laying her down gently on Isis' bright pink couch.   
  
"They'll be here soon," he said, looking everywhere but at her. "I told Jimmy to come..."   
  
"Jimmy? But..."   
  
"He found me and he... Well, he knows. You all need to stay here." He stood and started to back away, but she sat up and grasped his hand.   
  
"Clark, I did what I thought..."   
  
"We can talk later," he broke in, gripping her back and finally meeting her eyes. "I just wish..."   
  
The door opened then and Jimmy appeared. "Clark? You found her." He moved to Chloe and Clark pulled away quickly. "Oh, good. I looked all over, but..."   
  
"Davis is on his way, too," he said to Jimmy, backing further away. "I need you all to stay here. Stay safe. We'll take care of the rest."   
  
"Oh, my God!" Jimmy looked wide-eyes and dazed. "This is so... I mean, I don't want to say it's cool, but it kind of is extremely..."   
  
The door slammed open and Bart appeared, panting and laying Davis on the floor. "Okay. Let's do this."   
  
Jimmy let out a breath. "Whoa."   
  
"Yeah. Hey. Heard a lot about you," Bart said quickly. "Nice to finally meet the rival and all that. But I got a beastie to..."   
  
"We'll take care of this," Clark cut in, his eyes moving to Davis. He looked angry and sad and so tired she wanted to pull him down, insist he take a rest. But she knew there was no time. Not even to tell him that she didn't leave him, that she left  _for_  him, that it was all for him. Clark moved to Bart. "I need you to stay with them. Keep them safe."   
  
"But I can..."   
  
"Bart, I need someone to keep her... them safe," he finished, putting a hand on Bart's shoulder. "Someone that can come get me in a second if anything goes wrong."   
  
"Fine. I got it," Bart said, though he didn't sound happy about it.   
  
Clark nodded. Then he was gone in a whoosh of air.   
  
Chloe stared after him, then turned to Jimmy, still looking wide-eyed. "I thought Davis was the monster and..."   
  
"He's not," Chloe said, "not anymore, I mean. It's a long story. Uh..." She wasn't sure what to say next. What exactly did a person say to their ex-husband upon them finding out her friends are vigilante superheroes?   
  
Luckily, or maybe not, Davis groaned and sat up then. It only made her feel more anxious, stuck in a room with these two men. Bart didn't help with the constant pacing which was, for Bart, zipping from one end of the room to the other. "Bart?"   
  
"Huh?" He stilled.   
  
"You're making us a little dizzy."   
  
"Oh. Sorry, Doll." He zipped to the window and stayed there, staring out tensely.   
  
_So what now?_    
  
As Davis was still groaning and clutching his head, she turned to Jimmy. "What exactly..." She cleared her throat, trying to figure out where to start. "How much do you know?"   
  
"I was tracking you. Me and Lois were..."   
  
"Lois. Is she..."   
  
"She's fine. At least she was last I saw. Anyway, she's safer where she is than around us, I guess." He suddenly smiled. "But I found Clark." Jimmy moved closer. "And I saw what he can do. I know who he is. And now I see all kinds of things." He let out a breath of laughter. "Chloe, I get it now. I feel like... all along, I always felt that I was coming second to him, but... I don't know. It's different now that I see why."   
  
Davis was staring at them and she had absolutely no idea what to do here, what to say. Not to either of them.   
  
"I guess I always thought this was about you having feelings for Clark, but... I mean, it's not that, is it? And you," Jimmy went on, "I mean, Clark told me what you do, all the ways you sacrifice and... To me, you are as much of a hero as the Blur... as Clark's ever been. What you risk. Even you going away... now I know why."   
  
Davis stood. "And why is that?"   
  
"I need a minute," she said in a rush. She moved away, moved to the other side of the room, needing some space. Jimmy was smiling at her as if he wanted to remarry her then and there. Davis was staring at the both of them in abject horror and she had no idea who to reassure when she barely knew herself how this had happened.   
  
"She did it for Clark, okay?" she heard Jimmy say. "That thing of yours could kill him, so..."   
  
"That's not true. Chloe and I were going to start a new life and..."   
  
"The only reason she was with you was him," Jimmy said hotly.   
  
"Oh, you know her reasons? I'm not about to listen to some pill-popping ex who, incidentally, treated her like garbage and tried to steal and..."   
  
"That's amazing coming from the Cornfield Killer. And I knew what you were. I knew even before you chained me in a basement and tried to kill me!"  
  
"You don't understand what it was like, trying to keep that monster inside. And if you hadn't been there stealing money from her, I wouldn't have even..."   
  
"None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you!"   
  
Chloe flinched at a mild crash and the sounds of scuffling. But felt frozen staring at the wall.   
  
"Would the both of you stop it?" It was Bart's voice now. "You can kill each other if we all survive."   
  
"I'm not afraid of him now," Jimmy growled. "There's no spikey monster to..."   
  
"Maybe you should be," Davis countered.   
  
"Chloe can tell you herself. This was all..."   
  
"Then why don't you shut up and let her?"   
  
There was a tense silence. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she had to face them. "I thought that... I mean..." She turned, looked at the two of them, separated by Bart. She tried to start from the beginning. "I was the only thing that controlled the beast. And the beast... it could hurt everyone, but most of all..." She took a deep breath. "It could hurt Clark.   
  
Davis let out a shaky breath. "So he's right?" He shook his head. "This whole time that you were with me, it was for Clark?"   
  
"I cared about you, Davis. You know that. I just..."   
  
"Then tell me that's not true."   
  
"I can't," she said softly. "But that's not all there was to it."   
  
"But that's most of it, right?" His eyes turned hard. "Gotta admit, you really had me going. It must have been so hard for you. Especially..." He stopped himself, looking at Jimmy, then Bart, then turned a rather bitter gaze on her. She knew what he was thinking of those nights and had the sense to be grateful he wasn't saying it aloud. "I loved you. You're the only one who... who ever loved me. At least, that's what you let me think."   
  
"I did care about you, Davis," she said. That much was true. "It's why I wanted to save you."   
  
"Save me?" He let out a harsh breath of a laugh. "There is nothing left to save." He moved to the door.   
  
"Davis, don't..."   
  
Bart got there first. "Sorry, Beastmaster. No one's leaving. Boyscout's orders."   
  
"It's dangerous out there," Chloe pleaded. "We just need to..."   
  
"Let him go," Jimmy snapped. "I hope he finds his little pet and they destroy each oth..."   
  
There were screams outside. First a few, then more...   
  
Bart rushed back to the window, then turned to the rest of them. "It's here."   
  
*********  
  
_As you can see, there is no Watchtower in this fic as the requester felt it was unrealistic for it to be bought on Jimmy's salary, especially considering the drug problem that had him trying to steal money from Chloe. Davis is also not a complete psychopath as that made even less sense, considering ten minutes before his bout of murderous rage, he was willing to die._  
  
Also, there's a fight coming. And it will last more than six seconds, unlike the episode.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on alternate Doomsday with some elements from the "Death of Superman" arc as my patron requested.
> 
> Warning: Extreme violence.

 

[ ](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tty3v458IGo/T7cT1q8OaPI/AAAAAAAAAHM/JXP124ZxMeI/s1600/Another+Restlees+Night+1.png)

 

**Banner by Bkwurm1**

  
_There will be time to murder and create,  
And time for all the works and days of hands_

 

There were screams outside. First a few, then more, louder, closer.

Bart rushed back to the window, then turned to the rest of them. "It's here."  
  
"Here?" Chloe moved to the window next to him. "What does that mean? What does..." Clark went to lure it to the plant. Had it won? She let out a sob. "Please, God, no!"  
  
Bart gripped her shoulder. "Hey. We don't know what it means. They were trying to get it to the plant. Maybe it was just harder than they thought and..."  
  
"Clark," she nearly whimpered in relief. She could see him now, skidding to a stop at the other side of the street. But any relief was short-lived. She couldn't see the others. Not one of them. People were fleeing in the street below, but the Beast wasn't going after them. It stood still in the middle of the street and she swore she could hear its loud breathing below, as if it was sniffing the air. "Davis!" She looked behind her. He stood as if paralyzed. "It must be after Davis. We can't just..."  
  
There was a roar from the street and she turned back to the window. The Beast was staring up, moving toward the building and she felt frozen and sick, could almost feel its eyes on her. Then Clark ran at the Beast and It faltered. Yet, It recovered too quickly, gripped him by the arm, tossing him over Its head. The building shook.  
  
"So much for this safe haven," Bart growled. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Get outside, Babydoll. I need to clear this building!" He disappeared.  
  
"Stairs," she yelled, pulling Jimmy and Davis to the door. Davis seemed to wake up at that, but Jimmy looked completely dazed. "Now!"   
  
She ran for it, pulling an alarm as she passed it on the stairwell, hoping the building's occupants would get the message. She heard footsteps behind her as the building rocked again, then felt someone yank her back as a crack split the floor.   
  
"I've got you," Davis yelled, pulling her in the other direction, back to the hallway. There were sirens and screams outside, panicked yells inside. She felt something zip past her and knew it had to be Bart before he appeared in front of her, trying to support an unconscious Jimmy.   
  
"Top floor's clear. I think they're trying to lure it away from this one," Bart said as a distant crash split the air. "I need to be out there. Try to get everyone out." He shoved Jimmy at Davis. "You're a paramedic, right?"  
  
"Bart, go. We got this," she said. At least she hoped so. It was her building. She knew the evacuation procedure. And Davis had been a paramedic long enough to handle himself in a disaster. She saw a woman frantically pressing the button for the elevator and rushed to her. "Take him down the back stairs," she yelled back to Davis as she grabbed the woman's hand. "We all need to take the stairs," Chloe said, trying to keep her voice clear and calm, even as she was quaking along with the aftershocks.   
  
The woman nodded. "Okay. Okay. Okay..." She repeated it over and over as Chloe herded her and the fidgety man from the life insurance office in front of her, who was bleeding from his head.   
  
"Back stairs," she kept yelling as they hit the second floor and a frantic pair of men joined them. That had to be all. It was past three in the morning by now. Most of the offices were closed.  _Thank God._  Then again, she wasn't sure if God or anyone else was helping out when she heard a roar and a frantic "NO" from outside.  
  
She'd barely got their small group out the fire exit into the alleyway when she heard something even louder than the alarm -- an unearthly, ear-splitting screech that could only come from Dinah. It hurt her ears from here. She could only hope the Beast was suffering worse. But the screech was cut off abruptly. She looked around, horrified.   
  
Davis was tending to the insurance man. The woman from the elevator was still muttering to herself. Jimmy was standing on his own now, but shaking his head as if in some deep denial that this was happening. One man was trying to dial 911 while the other was arguing with him about the sirens already around them.  
  
"Damn it, just keep the civilians back!" she heard someone yell. It sounded like John Jones. "Nothing you have can fight this!"  
  
She moved almost drunkenly toward that voice, picked her way through the crumbled stone and broken glass, wondering how much was Isis and how much was the apartment building next door. Several people appeared in her path, all dazed and most bleeding, and she wondered if she was going insane until she saw that each was preceded by a flash of red. Bart was piling person after person into the alleyway.   
  
Chloe impatiently gestured them back, hoping Davis could handle them. She could barely speak, barely think what to do.   
  
All she knew was that she had to see _him_.   
  
She stumbled over a broken lion's head that used to hang from the corner of the federal building... and right into a war zone.  
  
"Just throw all you can at it!" John was screaming. "He can't fight this alone!"   
  
Oliver was grim-faced, notching arrow after arrow by hand, his compound bow a shattered mess some feet away. Dinah was at his feet, struggling to move. Victor was leaning drunkenly against an overturned patrol car, shooting shockwave blasts from his hands even as sparks flew from the side of his face, leaking some sort of dark fluid, darker than blood. But there was blood, too, surrounding John on the ground while he was shouting into a radio to "stay the hell out of the fight zone!" Sometimes a flash of red moved past and she heard new mewling voices behind her.  
  
And the ground kept shaking.  
  
When she cleared the building's side and saw Clark and the Beast, she saw why. Every punch Clark landed shook the earth, even as the Beast stayed upright. She screamed as It landed a blow on Clark's shoulder, nearly hammering him into the ground.   
  
Bart appeared before her, holding a bloodied boy. "Damn it, Dollface! Stay back!" he yelled, before putting the kid with the others and rushing at the Beast. But It swatted him away like a fly and she almost felt the impact herself as Bart crashed through the glass door of the movie theater across the street.   
  
She started for him, for Clark, but someone was pulling at her and she turned, ready to push them away hard before she saw it was Jimmy.   
  
"Chloe, what are you doing? You can't go..."  
  
"It's killing them!" she screamed as she heard another loud crash. By the time she turned back around, John was crumpled on the ground, his radio smashed next to his gun, just inches from his hand. But she saw Clark, saw him throwing off chunks of rock and dust, his clothes hanging from him in tatters. "Clark!" Jimmy was still holding onto her. "Let me go!" She ripped away, her jacket falling off in Jimmy's hands. "Clark!"  
  
Clark turned, caught her stare and, for a moment, it seemed like there wasn't even a foot between them. She could see everything in his eyes -- exhaustion, guilt, grief, and so much fear and pain that she wanted to weep. Yet there was no time for it.   
  
Oliver was pulling at a limp Dinah with one hand while his other arm just hung there, bent unnaturally at his side. He looked as if he was struggling to get her out of the Beast's path.  
  
But It wasn't moving to Dinah. It was moving toward the alleyway. Chloe whirled. "Davis! It's coming!" And there were so many injured people piled in with them by now. They were sitting ducks. "You have to get away from the others!" she yelled on a sob. It felt so cold, asking that of him, as if he were bait. But what else could she do? Her eyes darted to the gun near John's hand. It wouldn't make a dent, would only make the Beast angrier, would only taunt It closer to...  
  
She gasped as Jimmy stepped in her line of vision, snatching up the gun. "Jimmy! No!"   
  
Then it all happened so fast. Jimmy fired with a shaking hand, but the Beast just kept advancing, bullets popping off It like pebbles until It reached Jimmy, slashing a spiked hand through the air. The gun went flying in a spray of gore and Jimmy crumpled to the ground. Clark was suddenly beside her, pressing her to the opposite wall, then gone again, ramming himself into the Beast's torso. The both of them skidded across the street.  
  
She slid down the wall and stared numbly at the puddle of blood, Jimmy's blood, so much blood, too much blood. Jimmy was nearly gray, eyes fluttering shut. She slid bonelessly to the ground, felt something at her side, then let out a scream as she felt what it was -- Jimmy's hand, fingers still wrapped around the gun. She stared in horror at his stump of a wrist, pumping blood into the rubble. He was turning gray. "Somebody..."  
  
Davis appeared over him and she watched, frozen and trembling, bile creeping its way up her throat as Davis ripped off a hunk of his shirt and tried to tie it around Jimmy's forearm.   
  
And it was suddenly so quiet.   
  
No more crashing or rumbling, no more screams. Just moans and whimpers around her.   
  
"Come on. Don't you close your eyes," she heard Davis muttering. "You hear me, you little fucker?"  
  
She struggled to her feet, tripping over the rubble as she moved into the street.  
  
She saw the Beast's arm, twitching from a hole in the ground. She saw Oliver, cradling a still-limp Dinah with his good arm. She saw John, leaning over a convulsing Victor, whispering for him to hold on. She saw Bart, stumbling drunkenly from the ruined theater. But she didn't see Clark.  
  
"Clark!" She screamed his name, then she sobbed it, then she just sobbed... until she saw him rise up from under a police car and toss it rather weakly off him. She almost smiled.  
  
Then the Beast rose up between them, red eyes on her.  
  
She opened her mouth to warn Davis, but all that came out was a rusty squeak as It silently advanced on her. Her gaze snapped to Davis, still working on Jimmy as It moved closer.   
  
She stumbled backward and winced, waited for It to leap on her. But It didn't. It only took one step, eyes still trained on her. Then she realized it... The Beast was after her.   
  
Whatever connection Brainiac had woven between them, maybe the fragments of it were still there. She stepped tentatively to the side and it followed with one shuffling lurch. She moved slowly around it, further into the street, and it countered her. She madly wondered if It would follow her all the way to the Luthorcorp plant when she slipped, falling into a puddle too warm and sticky to be anything but blood.  
  
It leaned over her with a hot, growling wheeze of breath and she felt strangely resigned. It was only fair. Here she was, covered literally and figuratively with so much blood. It was only right she did her share of bleeding.  
  
"NO!" It was Clark. She was resigned to that, too. She'd always hoped, deep down, his voice could be the last one she heard.   
  
Something suddenly hit the Beast's back. She dimly registered it was a motorcycle before the thing whirled away.   
  
Then she could only watch in frozen horror as It ran at Clark, as Clark ran at It.   
  
They collided somewhere in the middle and the city shook with the impact. The ground seemed to crumble beneath them as they disappeared in a cloud of dust.  
  
"NO!" It was her turn to scream. She scrambled to her feet, slipping in the blood and the rubble. "No, no, no..." She kept repeating it, sobbing it, praying it. She barely glanced at the Beast, face-down in the crater, not even twitching now, because she could see Clark's arm, the cuff of his red jacket stubbornly clinging to it in tatters. She fell to her knees before him, pushing at the bricks and the broken cinder blocks. "Clark?" She saw his face now, dusty and battered and bleeding.   
  
She pulled at his arm, reflecting on how many times she'd dragged him away from something. He felt almost lighter now. It scared her. "Clark, please..." She sobbed in gratitude as his eyes opened.  
  
"Is it... The Beast... Did I..."  
  
"It's... it's..." She wasn't sure what it was, but she couldn't hear its rumbling, wheezing breath behind her. "You saved us," she breathed, knowing that much for sure. "You were so amazing."  
  
"Good," he breathed, kind of gurgled as blood spill over his lips. "That's good."  
  
"No! Just hold on. You're going to be okay. The sun's coming up," she said, looking desperately around her, then at the still-dark sky. "Isn't it? Please?"   
  
"Chloe, it's not."  
  
"Then we can get you there. John can. Just like last time. He can..." She looked up and saw John, trudging toward them, dragging his leg, staring at them sadly. His powers. They were gone, much like hers. She sobbed and leaned over Clark. Just like last time, she wished she could take his pain, wished it so hard her hands burned.  
  
"Never wanted you to go," she heard him whisper. His hand started to lift before it fell limply to the debris again. "You didn't get it. I didn't get it. But I know now... nothing... not without you."  
  
"Stop talking," she whimpered. She didn't want to think of what he was saying, not like this. "You tell me later," she nearly growled. "Just wait. The sun's coming. You'll see." It had to be. She felt it nearly burning her skin, saw the light as if it was somehow defying the night sky just for them.   
  
His eyes closed.   
  
"No!" She shook him. "Please no. Just wait. I swear it's..." She broke off, gasping with sudden, stinging pain. As if her skin was ripping apart in places.  
  
Then she realized it wasn't the sun. The light was all around them, only them. It was emanating from her hands, glowing dimly from inside his wounds. And the pain... God, it was everywhere.   
  
But she knew this feeling from before. She'd never felt it this excruciatingly. She didn't know how or why she'd been given this gift again.   
  
But she welcomed it.   
  
She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as she felt him struggling. She held him tighter, willed him to let this happen, what she knew had to happen. Her life for his. 

 _Of course. Anything for you._  
  
She gripped him tight as she welcomed the pain... the light... then the blackness...  
  
***************************  
  
Apparently, the city was in ruins. Tess couldn't force herself to care.  
  
Luthorcorp cared, apparently. Not with her help. She supposed Oliver Queen was behind the "Luthorcorp Cares" campaign that was spearheading the effort to rebuild Metropolis after a series of unexplained earthquakes.  
  
It was almost laughable. She knew very well what it was that leveled half the city. Hell, most of the news outlets were reporting on the mysterious monster... up until accounts of that monster mysteriously disappeared and eye witness accounts were suddenly "not sure what they saw" and every news source backtracked in abject mortification, citing those damned Kansas earthquakes.   
  
She laughed and took another slow sip... of the good stuff this time. Not that she'd been letting herself get drunk these last few days, though she told herself she would if she damned well wanted to. Why not?  
  
Anyway, the Beast had been taken care of. It had to be. There were no other "earthquakes." She wondered who did it. She wondered who was covering it up. Was it the government or had Clark made some friends? She didn't wonder hard enough to care, though.  
  
She finished off her drink with a sigh and moved through the top tier of the study in her robe. She'd worn nothing but robes and soft, silky pajamas these past days. No pinching heels or angular power suits. Why shouldn't she be comfortable? Her life had been absolute shit up till last year.   
  
Then she found herself with all the money and power she could have ever dreamed of. And what had she done with it? Chased signs and spacemen. And it didn't even matter how real they were. They may as well be shadows and myths for all the good they did her. She ended almost as many days here bruised and bleeding here as she had growing up. Wasn't this just more of the same abuse?  
  
No. She was finished now. Hell, she could let Oliver buy her out, take the whole thing. Then she'd be truly free.   
  
She could do everything she ever wanted. She could go sunbathe in the... No. Not the tropics. Never the tropics, after all the death she'd seen there. Maybe some place in the mountains.   
  
Growing up in a heated, humid swamp that flooded her home every spring, she'd always dreamed of something high and cool and dry. Really, when her search for Lex first sent her to the Arctic, she'd thought it had been kismet, some kind of sign that she'd have what she wanted.   
  
Well, she could have it now. Something high and remote. That would suit her. Some frightfully large so-called cabin with walls of books without one scientific term in them and wide windows that let in every sliver of light. She moved to the railing, staring at the manor's narrow windows, hating this prison of a house now. Even in the spotty purple light of dawn, it seemed dark. She'd had enough darkness to last a life...  
  
She froze as the room lit in flickering patches. Dawn didn't flicker... or whisper to her.  _The Orb._  
  
She rushed down the stairs and out into the hall, forgetting that she didn't care, forgetting that this had brought her nothing but pain. Maybe it had, but she had been part of something so momentous...   
  
She followed the light down the hall and to the conservatory, pushed her way out the door as it glowed even brighter, hovered in the air. She could see a mist forming around it as she moved closer, see it gather into something like a human form, a naked one hovering over fiery symbols burning in the grass.   
  
Then the light seemed to... shrink away.  
  
"No," she gasped.  
  
There was another glow behind it. A bright, blue one, not a flickering but a steady pin-point of blue light with a dark figure behind it.   
  
It moved closer and the naked form grew muddy, started to dissolve. The flames on the grass faded.  
  
"No!" She ran faster, then skidded forward in the wet grass, falling to her hands and knees.   
  
She lifted her head as the dark figure grasped the orb, still holding that source of blue light. It was a man, breathing heavily and becoming clearer as the blinding, blue light faded into what looked like a rock.   
  
A bald man.   
  
Tess' eyes widened as he moved toward her.  
  
It couldn't be. Lex was dead. And not the kind of dead she'd declared to the papers. The kind where remains were found. Guilty parties were imprisoned. Celebratory parties for one were thrown.  
  
Yet Lex Luthor was leaning over her.   
  
"I told you," he said, still breathing heavily. "You're not ready." He moved behind her and she felt a sharp, sudden pain on the back of her head before she slumped to the burnt grass, then into darkness.  
  
******************  
  
_Yeesh, this was a toughie! I know it was shorter than my usual, but I've never written so much damned action with so many damned characters involved. Hope it was good for you guys._


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to apologize in advance for the info dump you’re about to get. I’ll try to make it as amusing or interesting as possible.
> 
> Then we go into an alternate season 9.

_And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!  
Smoothed by long fingers,  
Asleep … tired … or it malingers_

  
  
**Chapter Four**  
  
She felt cheated.   
  
That was Chloe’s first thought upon waking. Maybe it wasn’t the correct first reaction to what should feel like a miraculous recovery. She knew what had last happened. She’d died. Just like with Lois at the dam, with Lex at the Project Intercept lab, she’d touched and she’d given her life with no guarantee that it would be returned… only to wake as if nothing had happened.  
  
That wasn’t the part that stung. Using her powers, there was always the gamble this was the last time. But she didn’t desperately _want_ it to be.  
  
Still, each time had her expecting something more from her “death.” After the initial horror of that incident at Reeves Dam, she’d been disappointed to wake in that morgue drawer without having experienced that tunnel or that bright light or that sense of peace that all people who nearly died went on and on about. It was the same when she woke in her own bed to an overly solicitous Clark last year. She’d been no wiser than before.  
  
So, when she registered the beeps of machines and the sunlight behind her eyelids with no deep or unique insight on the human condition, the first thing she felt was cheated.  
  
Still, she hadn’t really died, had she? Not then and not now. Maybe that experience was reserved for those who truly died. And she hadn’t. Not yet. She was almost irritatingly alive – irritating because she was starving, she was stiff all over, and several things were invading her body.   
  
She could feel something in her wrist and, perhaps more disturbing, in her urethra. Catheter. That was the word for it. She’d never had the pleasure before. She wondered why she had to have the pleasure now. Hadn’t she got through the last two just fine without all the external hardware?  
  
Then again, maybe whoever had her wasn’t aware of that. The idea quickly turned her annoyance to panic.  
  
She sat up with some difficulty, panting and dropping back to her bed twice before she succeeded in pushing down her blankets and staying upright, her head swimming as she looked around. The surroundings did nothing to calm her. This wasn’t Met Gen. It wasn’t even Smallville’s med center. It was too… was homey a word for it?  
  
There were no stiff-backed chairs, but a leather recliner and a matching sofa. There weren’t plastic blinds, but deep blue curtains on the window. There was even a little table and chairs with scattered cards and bits of a puzzle and a large TV hung on one wall, even a dart board. She might think someone had plopped a hospital bed in the middle of their rec room.  
  
That was when she started to panic in earnest. Who had her? The last thing she remembered was holding Clark, watching his wounds heal as she faded away in the middle of settling chaos and sirens and the military… Was she in a military hospital? It didn’t seem like it. There was too much chaos and mess in the room around her.  
  
She felt frozen, as if chained to this bed, she even felt a pinching at her stomach as she tried to stand. She laid back down again, breathing heavily, straining to keep her head up as she pulled at her hospital gown, seeing not just the catheter, but a wide tube attached to her stomach. “Oh, God!”  
  
“Oh, God!”   
  
That one wasn't her.

She turned to the door at the voice and the clatter that followed, quickly pulling down her gown. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been Bart Allen with a tray of food overturned at his feet and a hand over his eyes.  
  
“I didn’t see anything! I swear!” he yelled.   
  
“Bart?”  
  
“Okay. I maybe saw a little something, but with all the doodads, it was very medical and clinical and not at all…”  
  
“Bart?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s me,” he yelled, slightly muffled behind his hands. “So you’re… up now?”  
  
“Yes. And all covered up.” She dragged the blankets over her legs, laying back now with genuine relief. She should have known the guys wouldn’t let the government or anything worse cart her off.   
  
“Hey!” He uncovered his eyes and appeared at the side of the bed. “You’re up!”  
  
“Yes,” she grunted, feeling the annoyance at the damned wires come back along with the relief. Blame her sordid past, but there was something about tubes going in and out of her that would never feel like anything but the deepest invasion.  
  
“But you’re up!” he repeated, wide eyed.  
  
She’d kind of hoped they’d established that. “And kind of starving,” she said, wondering if that would snap him out of repeat. She gestured to the food now-crushed at his feet. It looked like a sandwich. “Is that for me?”  
  
“Uh… That was for me.” He looked behind him, then turned back to her in horror. “I mean, it would be for you if… I mean, I was on watch. And I swear, I only left for a second to get a little snack. I had no idea you’d be up the second I… I… I need to get the others.” He disappeared, then reappeared before her suddenly. “Don’t move! Or do move. Keep moving. Don’t… you know… Just don't close your eyes. I’ll be back!”  
  
“Think I’d never died before,” she laughed hoarsely as he disappeared, feeling downright cheery now that she knew she was safe. They must have taken her somewhere until she woke. And Bart was okay. He said he was getting the others. Last she knew, the others were alive, if a little worse for battle. And Clark… she healed him and survived. That was good to know. That could come in handy. She’d feel nearly giddy with life if she wasn’t still annoyed at the wires and tubes invading her.   
  
Still, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, now that she looked around the room, she saw a few things that should have tipped her off before if she’d looked closer. In the corner, there was a pair of thigh-high boots listing to one side that looked like Dinah’s. Just a few feet away, next to that easy chair, was an outlet with a surge protector filled with more plugs than seemed reasonable. Victor’s, she decided. It would explain why that area wasn’t covered in crumbs and crushed chips like the sofa, with a red hoodie hanging off one arm and yet another red hoodie slung over a battered, pink file cabinet across the…  _Pink file cabinet? It can’t be…_  
  
“Isis?”   
  
It couldn’t be. The walls were worn brick and there was a pink filing cabinet, but that didn’t mean…  
  
She turned fully to the window, something she’d been almost afraid to do, afraid of seeing bare land or a brick wall. The curtains weren’t fully open, but she could swear she saw some of the First Federal building. She knew that view.  
  
Rushed footsteps turned her attention to the doorway. “See? I told you…” Bart slipped on his own sandwich, which would have been hilarious if her mind wasn’t buzzing with confusion.  
  
“You’re awake!” Dinah rushed to her, then seemed to stop herself. “I mean… good for you.”  
  
“Yes. Hi.” Maybe they’d been worried. Hadn’t Clark warned them it could take time for her to revive?  _Clark…_  She saw Victor pile in behind Dinah and Bart, then Emil, then Oliver. But she didn’t see Clark. She looked over their faces, which seemed to go between ecstatic and shocked. “Is Clark… Didn’t he…”  
  
“Oh, Clark!” Bart slapped his head and dug in his pocket. “Thanks for reminding me. We were supposed to call him the second…”  
  
“How do you feel?” Victor cut in, moving to her.  
  
“I should ask you,” she said dazedly.  _So Clark’s okay._  “Yesterday, you were missing a cheek.”  
  
“Yester…” Victor chuckled and slapped lightly at his face. “I’m all patched up.”  
  
She turned to Emil, kind of impressed. “That was quick work.”  
  
Emil looked down. “Actually, it wasn't. I think we need to talk.”  
  
“I guess we do.” She glanced at Dinah, who was gripping her arm, which seemed strange. They got along okay, but they weren’t exactly pals. But Dinah was also touching her with an arm that had previously looked pretty badly broken.  
  
In fact, after everything that happened, no one seemed to have a scratch.  
  
She turned to Emil. “Did I… do some excess healing or are you just that good?”  
  
“Well, it…”  
  
“Would you just listen?” Bart was yelling into his phone. “Chloe’s awake. She… Hey! He hung up.” Bart shrugged and tucked his phone in his pocket. “Probably pissed I made him leave. The guy can only be here so many hours before…”  
  
“So it worked? It really worked? Clark’s…”  
  
“He’s fine,” Bart groaned. “Very much alive, though with how he haunts this room, he's like a ghost someti…”  
  
There was a whoosh of air and Clark was suddenly in the doorway. He pushed past the others. He looked perfect. Not a scratch on him, either.  
  
“Hi,” he said, sort of stilted and awkward.  
  
“Hi,” she answered back, also kind of at a loss as to what to say after what they went through last night… or was it a few nights now? She looked down, her hands twisting in the blankets and she saw something else, something dark blue. She hadn’t noticed it before, tangled up in the covers. Clark’s jacket. Just like the red one he had on right now. Maybe that would have tipped her off right away. She held it out. “I see you got your spares again.” Only Clark would not only buy such a dated jacket in several colors, but replace it when it was damaged. “How do you keep finding these?”   
  
He moved forward and took it, letting out a harsh breath of a laugh. “I’ve got ways.”  
  
Bart snorted. “Like making Victor scour Ebay.”  
  
“Bart, would you pipe down?” Victor groaned.  
  
“Why? She’s awake! Laugh it up, guys! Make with the jokes and the bubbly.”  
  
Chloe almost agreed. Everyone did look kind of somber.   
  
“There’s time for that later,” Oliver said, stepping forward. “I think she needs answers first.”  
  
She kind of agreed with that, too. She cleared her throat. “Where am I? I mean, I see the Federal, but it's lower down.” She gestured weakly to the window. “Did you guys rent space in the same building as Isis?” And did all the offices have pink file cabinets? She thought that was just a Lana thing.  
  
Oliver pursed his lips. “You could say that. Yeah.”  
  
She started to sit up. “How did you get all this here so quickly?”  
  
“Uh… Wait, let me.” Dinah pulled up a remote and her bed back started rising.  
  
“Thanks,” she said blearily. “But what’s with all the wires?” No one was answering. They were all just looking at each other and her. “I really don’t need all this…” She tried to pull at one electrode on her wrist and Emil rushed forward.   
  
“Why don’t you let me take care of that in a minute? We…” He looked at the others. “We need to talk.”  
  
“So you said.” She looked at the others, all just gaping. “What’s with all the long faces? I’m okay. I woke up.”  
  
Bart scoffed loudly. “Yeah. Like three months later.”  
  
“Bart!” Victor hissed.  
  
Emil glanced at her almost sheepishly. “Like I said, we…”  
  
“Need to talk,” she finished, feeling a little woozy. “Well, I’m already sitting down.” She was trying to decide if she’d faint when the decision was pretty much taken out of her hands.  
  
****************************  
  
Tess stared at the mock-ups on her desk, glad at least one decision was hers alone. “Run with the Mayor on front, Luthorcorp on page two with a small teaser in front,” she said quickly before she could second-guess herself. She wasn’t sure certain parties would agree, but it was her decision in the end.  
  
The Planet could take a balanced approach, she’d decided months ago. It would just make things seem more credible if the information got to the public, bit by tantalizing bit. It wasn’t time to be obvious.  
  
Still, she wondered what he’d have to say. If anyone had bothered to ask her three months ago what Lex Luthor might think of her work, she’d have told them she really didn’t care. She almost wished it was true now. But that night changed everything…  
  
_“Open your eyes.”  
  
She didn’t want to. She wasn’t sure she could. How much did she drink?  
  
“I didn’t hit you that hard. Wake up.”  
  
Just two drinks. The good stuff, too. It shouldn’t leave her head pounding like this. Tess groaned and rolled over… or tried to. Her body wouldn’t go. Maybe it was more than one drink. She’d had the strangest dreams, after all. She could still hear his voice now.  
  
“Wake up and I’ll consider untying one hand. Just one, though. Wouldn’t want you running off the rails any more than you already have.”  
  
She opened her eyes. But she didn’t look at him.  
  
“Or starting some kind of Heaven’s Gate of your very own. I was actually betting on that for a while. How sad.”  
  
“So it’s true,” she said hoarsely as she finally turned to look at him, though not fully. Her hands were bound above her head.  
  
“That’s a vague statement.” Lex sat on one side of the bed, tapping a rolled up newspaper against his hand. “If you mean worshiping at either the altar of someone who’s called The Red-Blue Blur or a glowing ball of light is pathetic , then yes. That’s true.”  
  
“You’re…”  
  
“Or maybe you’re talking about the stellar job you’ve done running my company into the ground.”  
  
“It can’t be.”  
  
“Oh, it can. I read it right here in the paper you waste all your time at. Shares are at an all-time low, but that’s what happens when you get in bed with Queen. You’d think he’d have disappointed you enough all those other times you got in bed, if rumors are to be believed.”  
  
“I’ve gone crazy.”  
  
“I know,” Lex said, his voice a mockery of sadness. “I’m trying to decide if there’s hope for you.”  
  
“You’re dead.”  
  
“Yes.” He chuckled. “Twice in one year. I think that’s my personal best.”  
  
“They found your remains. There was no way…”  
  
“They found remains genetically identical to mine,” Lex said impatiently. “You’ve had access to all my files, all my journals. Do you honestly think I don’t have a few spares lying around?”  
  
She took a shuddering breath. “Spares?” The idea was repulsive, sickening…  
  
“Shit,” Lex growled, leaning over to untie one hand. “Now don’t try anything,” he said before rushing away and back, shoving her onto her side.  
  
Tess wasn’t sure if she could sit up, let alone “try anything,” but there was a moment, while retching into and ruining the antique wastebasket she’d hand-picked to match the climbing ivy carved into her bed post, that she considered wrenching her free arm upwards and shoving her vomit right in his face. He’d been alive. Not only that, he’d been laughing at her, reducing all her work to some sad joke.  
  
“You probably have a concussion,” he said, setting the wastebasket on the floor and backing away, just her luck. “I’m sure you know by now they’re manageable without a doctor. Either way, my personal physician’s tied up and I don’t think I’ll risk taking you to a hospital.”  
  
“Spares,” she gasped, spitting hard. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
“I mean I have several contingency plans… or clones, if you want to put it crassly.” He picked up a glass from her dresser and gave it a sniff. “I see you’ve been helping yourself. Little pointer -- limit your drinking. I probably spent most of my last two years here half-bombed and I think it showed.”  
  
“Project Ares. Model 503,” she breathed, trying to sit up with one wrist still tied as it came together. Lana Lang had taken an inanimate clone called Model 503 from Reeves Dam and blew it up. “You pulled a Lana.” She shook her head. “But the project was destroyed. How did you…”  
  
He set the glass down. “Do you seriously think I’m so hard up that I’d pull tips from the Lana Lang playbook? And a little dam burst didn’t stop Project Ares dead. The research survived.” He sighed and sat on the window seat. “Some of it went into Prometheus, some into a more tightly focused Gemini.”  
  
“So the body they found…”  
  
“Clone.”  
  
“So you did pull a Lana.”  
  
“No. Would you keep up?”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe if you stop treating me like an idiot and answer.”  
  
“It’s hard to help. I have watched you this year and idiot might actually be a nice way of putting it.”  
  
“I have been the only thing keeping your work and your company going.” She pulled at the other rope and managed to sit up, despite her swimming head. “You want to talk about going off the rails? What about your petty little schemes?”  
  
He shook his head. “Clone.”  
  
“Is that your answer for everything? Hiring a certified lunatic to blow me up at the…”  
  
“Clone,” he said tiredly. “Do you think I’d do something so obvious?”  
  
She scoffed. “What about using meteor rock bomb just to cockblock Clark and Lana?”  
  
“Clone. But I have to say I almost approved. At least the thing put a clean end to that painful little farce.”  
  
She stared hard at him. “And a clone implanted spyware in my eyes?”  
  
Lex held her stare. “Now that, I did. I also took away the crystal you were incompetently investigating. Then you went and blocked me and look how everything’s gone to shit? It’s obvious I need to keep you in check.”  
  
She dropped her gaze, too tired and confused to even be angry anymore. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. Declare yourself alive. Take everything over if I’ve done such a shit job. I never asked for any of this.”  
  
“That’s not what’s going to happen. I think you have potential, Tess Mercer. Do you seriously think I would have left you in charge over Matthews if I didn’t? Though I’d say you got a little too competitive at the end.”  
  
“It was self-defense. He was…”  
  
“Yes. Kicked to death in self-defense. Listen, I understand.” His tone was almost gentle. “Getting dropped into this mess makes you crazy. But this time, we’ll work together. This time, we’ll do it right.”  
  
“This time?” She shook her head. “I’m done.”  
  
“That’s one option. I could untie you and let you walk away with a nice severance package for time served and a tight non-disclosure agreement.”  
  
“I’m supposed to believe that? You’d probably have me killed before I…”  
  
“Not you. That might be true of almost anyone else, but not you.”  
  
She stared hard at him, but he didn’t so much as twitch. “Why?”  
  
“Just listen. You won’t want to leave once you know everything. This time, it will be different.”  
  
“Why?” she asked again. “What have you done?”  
  
“It's not what I've done. It's what I have. We won’t be left floundering with only half the information. We’ll have answers.”  
  
“You mean the orb?”  
  
“Forget the orb,” he sneered. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole and neither should you. Do you even realize what you almost did?”  
  
“No,” she said, finally loosening that last knot enough to sit up straighter. “You talk about floundering with half the answers... What the hell did you do with the orb?”  
  
“It’s in a safe place. They won’t be released.”  
  
“They who?”  
  
“Who.” He chuckled. “That’s kind of fitting. Did you ever read that Dr. Suess book with the Elephant and the Whos?”  
  
“Yes,” she growled. She’d had the thought herself, but she was not in the mood to sit here and laugh with Lex Luthor about great minds thinking alike while still tied to her own damned bed… or was that his? Everything here was his, really. “Just get on with it,” she said impatiently. She didn’t care what he said, just that he finished so she could leave if he truly would let her. She was sick of being surrounded by Luthor trappings.  
  
“Well, imagine if the Whos were a bunch of powerful aliens from a long-dead planet. Think Clark Kent, but with a brain and military training.” He shrugged. “It’s just one theory of many, half-corroborated by Lionel’s time scribbling in symbols. But I believe a part of that civilization was preserved in an altered state.”  
  
“And you destroyed it?”  
  
“I’d never do something like that. Who knows if they might come in handy? I contained it using blue meteor rock. I wasn’t even sure it would work. Glad it did, though, or this planet would be overrun. I prefer to keep things simple these days.”  
  
“Says the man with multiple clones.”  
  
“Touché. Really, only one was viable. The rest are… I guess you could call them organ donors. Not two brain cells to rub together. I’ll keep them that way. I’ve learned my lesson after this year.”  
  
“I’m still not sure I believe that. Matthews was working for you.”  
  
“He was working for my clone. He was just too stupid to know it. When he went off to find me, he found it, practically dead and trying to steal my technology to save itself. It seemed to think it was better at being me than I was. I was locked up for two days before my idiot scientists figured it out.” He sighed and shrugged. “To be honest, I just let it happen after that. I figured it would get itself killed at some point. And, though I was already declared dead, thanks to you, I thought it was best certain parties had proof. I guess losing the Prometheus suit was the price to pay for a nice, legitimate death.”  
  
“So the suit _ was _for you.”  
  
He shrugged. “It was just a project, another fail-safe. I wasn’t sure I’d make use of it. I wasn’t even sure it would work until Lana hijacked the whole thing. Still, it wouldn’t have been satisfying, in the end. What’s the point of controlling freaks when you become one? I’d much rather win my own way.”  
  
“You’re a dead man hiding in the shadows. How is that winning?”  
  
“I’m not alone now,” he said, moving toward her and untying her other wrist. “You can leave now, but I don’t think you want to.”  
  
She stood, glancing between him and the door. She supposed she  could leave now. Despite his manipulation and spying, something told her he meant it when he said he wouldn’t hurt her.  
  
She finally sat. “What exactly is your plan?” she asked, because he was right. Even though so much in her screamed that this was enough already, she couldn’t get away. She couldn’t be part of something that changed her world and then… nothing.  
  
He smiled. “We have work to do.”  
  
Still, even though she was a willing captive as she listened, she felt trapped._  
  
**************  
  
Tess pushed the penthouse button and typed in the code.  
  
She didn’t answer to him. She told herself that over and over as she took the long elevator ride to his apartment. She wasn’t going there some form of approval from him. Just to check in as his partner, not his subordinate.  
  
She tapped a fingernail against the mirrored back wall, annoyed with him and,  _damn it_ , herself. She could say they were a team all she wanted. So could he. That didn’t make it so.   
  
He’d put it so eloquently that night. She could continue as the public face of Luthorcorp and enjoy its supposed benefits. He would stay in the shadows. Really, he had the worse end, the way he explained it. He couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of his labor and she could. Wasn’t that a fair enough trade for a few unanswered questions?  
  
It wasn’t, really. She wasn’t in this for the perks. The expensive clothes and gourmet food had lost appeal long before he showed up again. She wanted answers. She wanted in all the way. He said she wasn’t ready. Not yet. And she kept swallowing her anger.  
  
Wasn’t she better than this?   
  
Yet every time she was tempted to explode or demand or just walk away, she couldn’t bear the idea. And that, she worried, was about more than this secret world. That was about him. She could barely understand it, but there was this connection, something she’d felt from the first time she met him. She almost hated it, had dismissed it as a silly crush or some form of hero worship, so beneath the woman she wanted to be.  
  
Damn it, she was over all that. This was just about the cause, the truth. She’d get it all in time. There was no shame in being patient. It didn’t mean…  
  
She straightened as the doors opened on his apartment. He could afford to hide in slightly better shadows now. For him, it had been a year of sleeping on laboratory couches and in trashy motels, living on what little he’d had socked away under the name Alexander Thorul, most of which had gone to pay for Gemini 2.0 and Prometheus. Sometimes it almost made her feel sorry for him. Then she remembered he’d also used her as his personal two-way mirror all that time and pity died a quick death.  
  
Still, wary as their team up was, she respected him.  
  
“I told you. Front page.”  
  
Just not enough to do his bidding without question.   
  
“And I decided against it,” she said calmly, moving past him to the bar as he put the evening edition down and stood. “Luthorcorp owns the Daily Planet and everyone knows it.”  
  
“Which is exactly why…”  
  
“Which is exactly why it would look suspicious,” she said over him as she uncapped the good scotch. “A Luthorcorp funded study on the connection between meta-humans and madness isn’t front page news, anyhow.”  
  
“The people need to be convinced,” he said, right behind her.  
  
“They will be, but not by bombarding them. I gave it page two and that’s as far as it gets until I have something headline worthy.” She poured just one finger. She liked a clear head around him. “Besides, most people that go to the trouble of buying the paper read the whole thing. These are frugal times. Best to let it seep into their minds without spoon-feeding them the idea.” She turned and lifted her glass.  
  
“Interesting,” he said, plucking the glass from her hand. “Thanks for that.”  
  
She gritted her teeth and turned to pour herself another, refusing to be goaded. It was an unpleasant side of him she was just getting to know – childish taunting. “My drink or my superior judgment?”  
  
“Maybe both if it works.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table. He looked tired. It made her wonder what the hell he did all day, not that he’d tell her. She knew he was spearheading the strangely above-board Luthorcorp studies, but that wouldn’t take all his time.  
  
“People don’t like being treated like idiots.” She took a long sip and let that sink in.  
  
He chuckled. “Still sulking?”  
  
“Not at all,” she said dryly as she took a seat across from him. “I hope you never tell me anything. I just  _love_ the mystery of it all.”  
  
“I told you. When you’re…”  
  
“Ready. I know,” she gritted. “What the hell are you waiting for? I think I’ve proved my loyalty by now.”  
  
“Call me paranoid,” he said with a strange smile.   
  
“I’d call you worse,” she muttered.  
  
“But I remember a girl,” he went on, ignoring her, “who _worshiped_ a glowing ball and sang the praises of Clark Kent and tried to merge my company with the guy who made my life hell in school and…”  
  
“And that’s all over. And stop calling me a girl. It’s demeaning.”  
  
“Aw, poor kid.” He chuckled. “You want a pat on the head? Treat?”  
  
“Keep going. I can feel my loyalty just draining away with every…”  
  
“No. Seriously. I’ll call Alessa.”  
  
Tess sighed. “Again?”   
  
He picked up his phone. “They don’t deliver, but they _will_ if you add a good tip in advance. I’m starving.”  
  
“You have food here.” And a discreet chef and maid service that took care of it all every Tuesday and Friday. She should know. She’d made the arrangements. Yet every time she came over, he was starving. She wondered if he’d come out and say he didn’t want to eat alone. Just once. “What is it? Not as interesting if you already have it? If that isn’t just you in a nutsh…”  
  
“Do you want something or not?”  
  
She sighed and stretched. She’d stay. She always did. “Fine. Something light. I don’t care what?”  
  
“Ham in cream sauce it is.” He smirked as he dialed. “Good thinking today, though. You’re more subtle than I’d be, but I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad thing. Yes. How is your salmon today?”   
  
She stared into her drink as he paced and ordered, trying not to feel pleased… and failing. There was that confusing connection again. She felt it most when he was sort of… She didn’t want to say sweet, but sometimes he was close to it – complimenting her, refusing to admit that he didn’t want to eat alone.   
  
She wiped off her smile. She needed to check these feelings. She didn’t want to end up a sad little minion with a hopeless crush again. Or was she still there, even now?  
  
***************************  
  
“Dinner for Madames,” Bart said, putting down a tray with a flourish. It had a mushroom swiss burger and fries for Dinah and, for Chloe, applesauce, a banana, and dry toast.   
  
She’d just finished the grand tour. When she’d seen all the familiar surroundings, she’d assumed the gang had just set up shop in some office in the Isis building. She didn’t know Oliver bought the whole damned thing. They’d spent three months turning a handful of offices and a sandwich shop into a headquarters complete with a medical bay, a war room, a lounge, a technology lab, and sleeping quarters. It was all pretty impressive, but she’d been much more excited to see the converted sandwich shop they were calling the commissary after what she now knew was three months on a feeding tube.   
  
Then Emil told her the only things she could eat.  
  
“Thanks, Sweetness.” Dinah beamed up at Bart.  
  
“Hey!” Oliver slapped the table, looking annoyed at Dinah, then turned sharply to Bart. “Why don’t you ever make me anything?”  
  
Bart shrugged. “You’re not a hot chick with flirtatious nicknames?”  
  
“He sure isn’t, Babycakes.” Dinah winked at Bart as he moved back into the kitchen.   
  
“He is really getting good,” she said to Chloe. “Who knew all that eating would pay off like this?”  
  
“I’ll take your word for it.” Chloe grudgingly took a bite of toast. She supposed Emil was right, putting her on such a bland diet, but it annoyed her, as did the lack of information.  _You fall into a dead faint one time…_  
  
“You know, I’m probably entitled to half of that.” Oliver moved to take a fry.  
  
Dinah slapped his hand away. “We’re not married.”  
  
“Yeah, but…”  
  
“And last I checked, we weren’t exclusive or using all those labels you can't stand, so…”  
  
“Baby, it’s not like…”  
  
“Oh, go away and let me eat.”  
  
Oliver huffed and moved off to one of the other tables, where Victor and Clark seemed to be having a deep conversation, eyes sliding to Chloe now and again.   
  
“See how he is?” Dinah rolled her eyes.   
  
Chloe tore her eyes from Clark. “Who? Oliver?”  
  
“Yeah. It’s like I was telling you…”  
  
“Telling me?” No one had told her much, thinking she was going to lose consciousness again.   
  
“Oh, yeah. You couldn’t hear. We were all kind of hoping you could.” Dinah shrugged and nudged her plate to Chloe. “You can have some fries. I won’t tell the Doc.”  
  
“Thanks,” Chloe said dazedly, checking to make sure Emil wasn’t around before she shoved one in her mouth. “Oh, God!” She thought it felt good when she had her first sip of water, but to eat a fry… “I think I want to get fat,” she sighed. “Just as soon as I get to eat again.” She frowned and shifted in her wheelchair. “Actually, I feel kind of fat already. What’s Emil putting in those tubes?”  
  
“Oh, you’re fine. Maybe you even lost weight.”  
  
“I doubt it.” She’d insisted on at least putting some underwear under her gown when they finally de-tubed her and let her out of bed and they felt sort of binding.   
  
“Well… Emil will probably give you the whole once-over. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Anyway, there’s a gym in the basement. We’ll check it out tomorrow.”  
  
“Sounds like… fun,” Chloe lied. She hadn’t been an exercise nut even when out of a wheelchair. Maybe she’d have to learn to like it. Lois had always bugged her to…  
  
“The Doc says you might have a little muscle loss going. We’ll get you pumped up. Maybe we’ll be gym buddies.” Dinah reached across to squeeze her hand.  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“I’m being too buddied up, aren’t I? Is this weird for you?”  
  
Chloe wasn’t sure if it was rude to say yes. But Dinah had been a little familiar for someone she’d only met a few times. “Of course not.”  
  
“Don’t lie. I know. I’m kind of ahead of you. See, you and I have actually become pretty tight.” Dinah slathered ketchup on her fries. “You just can’t help it, after all the time we spend together.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Sure. I change your gowns, read you all the gossip, exercise your legs, do your nails.”  
  
Chloe glanced down at her nails. “I was wondering about that.”  
  
“Hot pink not your shade?”  
  
“I don’t know. I never really did my nails before. Always… chipping them on a keyboard or… “  
  
“That’s why you do a clear coat last of all. Don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes. We’re practically besties.”  
  
Chloe laughed. “I have to catch up, I guess.”  
  
“Definitely. We even talk about our love lives.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “My end might have been kind of silent regardless.”   
  
“You might think that, but you might be wrong,” Dinah said, staring closely at her before turning her attention back to her food. “Anyway, you have been the best listener ever.”  
  
“Well, I must have found hidden talents in a coma.”  
  
“I hear people do.” Dinah smiled as Bart came back out with his own tray. “Got any hot sauce, Darling?”  
  
He sped out and appeared a moment later with a tiny bottle for her. “Just for you.”  
  
“Thanks, my pint-sized… pineapple. You’re the best.”  
  
"You're running out of nicknames." Bart chuckled and sat down.   
  
"Only because I've used so many for you... Pookie. See? That's new."  
  
Bart snorted. “So why aren’t you ditching that green giant? I’ll have you know I can not only cook, but prevent whiplash.”  
  
“I’m hardly even with him,” Dinah mumbled around a mouthful.  
  
“Sure you’re not.” Bart winked at Chloe. “Same goes for you, Babydoll, as always. Anything for you.” He slipped her a shaker. “Little cinnamon on that mush? I got the hook up.”  
  
Chloe laughed and took it, but set it down. Those fries had smelled amazing, but once the hot sauce and ketchup was introduced to the plate, the whole thing was putting her off eating altogether.   
  
Bart nodded to Clark, Victor, and Oliver, all talking rather intensely. “What’s that? The grown-ups table? Hey!” Bart announced loudly. “I just want everyone to know that we are having awesomely important talks that we will not tell anyone about, too!”  
  
“Pipe down,” Victor called out. “You know all this.”  
  
Chloe caught Clark’s eye. “I don’t.”  
  
“You will,” he said, kind of gravely, holding her stare. “I promise.” He looked away.  
  
She turned back to the others, feeling annoyance creep in. She understood the bland diet. She even understood the agonizingly slow trickle of information. But she didn’t understand Clark right now. There was a time when he’d hug her as soon as look at her after something like this. Now, after three months in a coma, he hadn’t so much as squeezed her hand. Not that she was entitled to it or anything. Maybe he was still angry.  
  
“Come on, Doll.” Bart nudged her bowl to her. “Soup’s on. Get it while it’s… lightly chilled.”  
  
“I’m actually not that hungry now.”  
  
“Worst words in the world,” Bart gasped. “Listen, I know it’s not the best. But you get through this week and I will whip you up some meals that’ll make you…”  
  
“Please don’t,” Chloe cut in. “I think I put on a few already.”  
  
“Impossible. You’re as svelte as ever, Mon Petite Chérie. Eat up.”  
  
“I really don’t want to. Not just now.”  
  
“I’m afraid you’ll have to.” She looked up as Emil came in. “The long-term gastric feeding tube might have affected your appetite, but your stomach needs to become accustomed to light foods so you can return to a normal diet.”  
  
Bart nudged her. “What he said.”  
  
“You’ll also need to drink plenty of water, even if you don’t feel particularly thirsty and I’d like you to take these.” He sat down and handed her a small cup of pills.   
  
“What are they?”  
  
“Just various supplements. Vitamin D, C, calcium, folic acid.”  
  
She stared at it. “I never took that one before.”  
  
“Best to start now. I’ll also give you leave to do some light walking tomorrow to alleviate some bed sores, which shouldn’t be too bad. But try to get in just a little cardio. Dinah’s been exercising you almost daily herself, but muscle atrophy is nearly unavoidable.”  
  
She glanced at Dinah. “Uh… Thanks for the exercise.”  
  
Dinah smiled. “No problem.”  
  
“For the record,” Bart piped up, “I also volunteered.”  
  
“But I didn’t let any of these animals cop a feel,” Dinah said with a wink.  
  
Chloe laughed, suddenly reminded of Lois. She might actually like Dinah if she got to know her.  _Lois…_  “Okay. I can do all of that. But someone really needs to…”  
  
“Fill you in,” Oliver cut in, pulling up a chair. “I know.”  
  
“Well, I was actually…”  
  
“We’re trying to keep everything light,” Victor said, pulling up another. "We don't want to overload you."  
  
“Hey,” Bart grumbled, “no one said you nerds could sit at the cool table.”  
  
“The first thing you need to know,” Victor said, ignoring him. “Is that everyone is more or less safe.”  
  
“More or less?”  
  
“Jimmy is…”  
  
“Jimmy!” she gasped. She hadn’t even thought of him. How awful was that?  
  
“He’s alright. He’s healing,” Oliver said quickly. He looked around at the rest of them. “That’s all you need to know for now.”  
  
“Okay,” she breathed. “Good. Okay. And what about… Davis?” She felt strange saying his name, even stranger when Clark approached the table with shuttered eyes.   
  
“I’m sure he’s fine, too. The last we saw, he was… perfectly safe.”  
  
“And John?” She hadn’t seen him since that night, when he’d been bleeding profusely. He wasn’t here.  
  
“He’s… away,” Oliver said carefully, "on a special project."  
  
“Yes. Good. Then everyone’s safe.” Maybe that was all she needed to know for now. “Well, I’m going to have to call Lois and at least explain…”  
  
“Chloe…” Clark moved closer to the table, but didn’t take a seat. “We can’t do that.”  
  
“You guys, if anyone gets secret-keeping, it’s me. But if it’s been three months, then she needs to be told something. She’s probably been worried sick.”   
  
Everyone seemed to start looking around at everyone else.  
  
“What?" Chloe started, "Didn't you guys tell her anything?”  
  
There was a long silence before Clark finally spoke. “No, we couldn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” His eyes stayed on hers for the longest time yet. “We can’t find her.”  
  
To her credit, she didn’t swoon.  
  
**********  
  
_Sorry for all the info dumping I did. There’s more to come, but this was getting long already._  
  
_Still checking off my patron’s requests…_  
  
_Most of the actions of Season 8 Lex were of a clone? Check._  
  
_Tess and Lex team up? Check._  
  
_Watchtower replaced with a revamped Isis? Check._

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still checking off my patron’s requests. As of that last chapter…
> 
> Most of the actions of Season 8 Lex were of a clone? Check.
> 
> Tess and Lex team up? Check.
> 
> Watchtower replaced with a revamped Isis? Check.
> 
> Lois is gone with the ring? Taking care of it…

 

**Banner by Bkwurm1**

**Chapter Five**

  
_And time for all the works and days of hands  
That lift and drop a question on your plate;  
Time for you and time for me…_

 

  
  
“In the future?” Chloe repeated. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d said it by now. Maybe as many as it took for it to sink in. “Lois is… living in the future.”  
  
“That’s the only possibility,” Clark said tiredly as Chloe rewound the footage again. They were in the media bay. Victor had managed to hack The Daily Planet’s security feed. She’d seen it a few times now. _Lois hits Tess with box, Tess falls to floor, Lois falls to floor, box spills out a ring, Lois picks up ring… no more Lois._  
  
Chloe pushed away, shaking her head. “How do you get that from this?”  
  
Clark leaned over her and hit pause. “Chloe, that ring was programmed by Rokk to send the Beast to the Legion. He wanted me to force it on Davis and send him there so they could destroy the beast.”  
  
Oliver spoke up. “Some of us still happen to think that was a good idea and we should have been told about it.”  
  
“And I happened to think,” Clark began tightly, “that pawning my problems off on the future was irresponsible and we don’t even know if they had the capability to…”  
  
“Dude, will you guys stop?” Bart cut in. “It’s over. Get over it. Everything’s fine. Jeez!”  
  
Chloe shook her head and turned her wheelchair to face the rest of them. “How is everything fine? Lois is missing and none of you seem to know where Davis is, either.”  
  
Clark seemed to look hard at the rest of them. “If Lois went to Rokk and the Legion, then she’s safe. We might not know more than that, but we know that.”  
  
Chloe swiped at her eyes. “How do you know for sure?”  
  
Clark sat on his haunches in front of her, speaking softly. “I have an inkling. Relations between the future and… well, here, are kind of few and far between. But I found a communication from Rokk that’s… telling.” He turned her around and leaned over her, pulling up an image… from the cave walls, of all places.  
  
_Received your visitor. Was not expected. Asks lots of questions. As world is still intact, assume things went well. – R._  
  
“That was never there,” Clark explained. “I’ve studied those caves for years. Rokk is trying to tell us Lois is with them.” She felt his hand on her shoulder.   
  
“So she’s okay?” Chloe said with a sniff, turning towards him.   
  
“She has to be.”  
  
“But can’t they just send her back?”  
  
“I don’t know how it works.” He turned her chair around and she immediately missed the weight of his hand on her shoulder. “But I know that, if Rokk had to comment on curiosity, that visitor has to be someone related to you.”  
  
She pushed lightly at him, feeling a smile in spite of everything, then wiped her eyes again. Had she always been so ready to cry?  
  
Emil stepped forward. “I think that’s enough for today. Chloe, it’s past seven. You should rest if…”  
  
”That’s not enough. Not nearly enough. I’m fine.” She swiped rather impatiently at her cheeks. “How did Davis escape? What about the beast? You said Jimmy is healing. Healing from wha…” She stopped. She could almost feel the blood draining from her face. “Jimmy's hand,” she gasped. “I saw it. I held it in mine and the blood... Oh, God!”  
  
Dinah clapped her hands. “Okay! I’m thinking a nap. Are you thinking a nap? Let’s both have one. Just a little one, then…”  
  
“No. Please!” Chloe clutched at Clark’s jacket, but he moved away. “You said Jimmy was safe. Please tell me you aren’t just…”  
  
“Jimmy is perfectly safe,” Oliver said, stepping into the space Clark left. “He’s had the best care. I’ve seen to it personally… and financially. He’s at an amazing facility and you don’t need to worry about him.”  
  
But she needed to see him. Needed to see for herself.  
  
“As for the Beast,” Oliver went on, “it’s… not likely to show up anytime soon as we took advantage of some contacts of mine and used..."  
  
Bart jumped in. "We shot the fucker into space!"  
  
"Bart..."  
  
"What? It's cool. None of you guys say it right. You don't even appreciate how cool it is!"  
  
"I do, Bart," Dinah said with a wink before turning to Chloe. "Oliver has contacts in Russia who were on a Mars mission,” Dinah added.   
  
Chloe blinked. “Russia?”  
  
Oliver shrugged. “We’d have gone through NASA, but we were afraid a certain bony monster would wake up before the red tape cleared. I’m nothing if not patriotic, but there’s way too much paperwork over here. John Jones was sent with it as he was also hoping to hitch a ride to his home planet.”  
  
“So John could have his powers back by now?”  
  
“We have heard from our Russian friends, but not from Jones yet,” Oliver said.  
  
“He’ll contact us when he’s back,” Clark said impatiently. “But Emil’s right. You’ve heard enough and you need to rest…”  
  
“I’ve been resting for three months,” Chloe grunted, pushing herself to stand, giving the wheelchair a little kick, even with her jellified legs. She turned to Oliver. “This facility Jimmy’s in… Can he have visitors?”  
  
Oliver checked his watch. “For about two more hours.”  
  
“Well?”  
  
He sighed and said, “I’ll give you a lift,” before moving out.  
  
She turned to Dinah, gripping her arm. “Do I have any clothes that aren’t hospital gowns?”  
  
“I did pack up some of your…”  
  
“Good. Get them. Please? I’ll meet you in the room.” She took a few shaky steps, satisfied when she was able to stay upright as Dinah rushed off. She’d missed enough. She’d make up for lost time. Make up with Jimmy, after all he’d lost. She had to. She’d help him through this and…  
  
“Chloe, I urge you to rethink,” Emil said, taking her by the elbow as she slowly picked her way to the door. “This has been a traumatic day and you need…”  
  
“Doctor Hamilton, I told you before that I’ve rested enough,” she said firmly. “Three months! I’ll go insane if you send me back to that bed right now. I want to use what’s left of this night to start… living again,” she finished with a satisfied smile as she made it to the door jamb.  
  
He nodded and released her. “Fair enough. Then… perhaps you can squeeze a session with me into this day?”  
  
“A session?” She let out a breath of laughter. “Are you a therapist now?”  
  
“Not at all. I just… There’s something important…” He stopped and took a very deep breath before going on. “Chloe, there’s something we need to speak about. Privately,” he added gravely.  
  
She peered closely at him. “You sound so serious.”  
  
“Do I?” He suddenly smiled. “I don’t mean to. I just think we need to have a private chat about… certain things and adjusting to… new situations.”  
  
She sighed. “My powers came back. I know. It was a surprise to me, too, but…”  
  
“Exactly,” he said quickly. “That’s exactly the kind of thing we need to discuss. Alone,” he added, rather intensely.  
  
“Okay!” Dinah rushed up to her. “Are we thinking business casual or comfort?”  
  
“Uh…” Chloe was still staring at Emil.   
  
“We’ll talk later,” he said, moving off, leaving her with Dinah, who was pulling her away.  
  
“Wait…” She turned to say goodbye to Bart, Victor, and Clark. But Bart and Victor seemed to have already turned that video feed into a video game.   
  
“First to kill a hundred zombies wins,” Bart called out.  
  
“That’s not even the point,” Victor droned.   
  
“That’s one!”  
  
“It’s staying alive to solve the…”  
  
“That’s two!”  
  
“Cheater!” Victor growled, picking up his controller.  
  
Some things never changed. Chloe chuckled and turned to see what Clark thought of all this. But Clark was nowhere to be found.   
  
“Hello?" Dinah snapped her fingers. "If we’re thinking business casual, then I’ve got some skirts that…”  
  
“Comfort. Let’s go for comfort,” she said, letting Dinah pull her down the hall. She might not know much right now, but she knew she’d put on a few. By the time she’d discarded three pairs of jeans and two dress slacks, she was positive. “Seriously, what is in those feeding tubes? I feel like a cow.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Dinah chirped, tossing her some sweatpants. “It’s not like you’ve been watching TV and eating bonbons. You have been in a coma. Anyway, we’ll get in some workouts. I can train you,” she said with a slight gasp. “I’ve always thought personal trainer was my second calling. And now I get to mold you. I will,” she said earnestly, “change your life.”  
  
“Yay,” Chloe said, feeling just a little scared, and not just because of how gung-ho Dinah seemed, but because she  _hated_ exercising for the sake of exercising. Absolutely loathed it. But maybe she’d have to learn to tolerate it. Even her sweatpants felt snug. “Anyway, this works for today. As long as I see him.”  
  
Dinah perched on the side of the sofa. “So I know I’m a little further along in our confidante status than you are, but do you mind me asking a personal question?”  
  
Chloe poked her head out of a t-shirt. "Yes. I mean… No. I don't mind. Go on.”  
  
“Why the big hurry? Jimmy will still be there tomorrow.”  
  
“I just need to see him now. I don’t want him to find out I’m awake from Oliver or anyone else and… Well, he needs to know.”  
  
“Know what?”  
  
“That I’m here for him,” she said firmly. “That we’ll work this out together. You know, I bet Victor knows more than most scientists about artificial limb technology and if Jimmy needs…”  
  
“I just have to stop you there,” Dinah cut in. “You want to work this out together? Does this mean that… I mean, you want to start things up with him again?”  
  
She hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. But maybe she should be. And maybe they would. Maybe they’d still be together now if she’d been more honest with Jimmy. And maybe he wouldn’t be short a hand. “Maybe I will. Maybe that’s what he needs.”  
  
Dinah stood and moved to the window. “Oliver’s pulling up. I’ll tell him to you’ll be right down.”   
  
“Great!” Chloe sifted through the clothes on the bed for a jacket. “I’m almost ready. Just need to freshen up a little and…”  
  
“Oh. Toiletries in the red bag,” Dinah said, picking it up and tossing it to the bed.   
  
“Thanks so much. I won’t be long.”  
  
Dinah moved to the door, then stopped, turned around. “Just make sure that, somewhere in all this, you’re maybe... thinking of what you need. Okay?” Then she was gone.  
  
Chloe shook her head and pulled on a jacket. She didn’t need anything. She was healthy. Her assorted heroes were safe. Lois was safe, or as safe as someone could be a thousand years in the future. It was Jimmy who needed things, needed her. And she wouldn’t fail him again.  
  
**********  
  
“Stop staring at it.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes snapped to Jimmy’s, taken aback. “I’m sorry.” They were in St. Lawrence’s empty rec room. It was actually a beautiful place. She didn’t have to see it in daylight to know that. She’d been here before, briefly, when Lana had been here, blank-eyed and without much hope for a cure. Jimmy was in a different wing, filled with people in recovery, learning to walk again or, in his case, adjust to life with… a little less. “So you’ve been taking pictures?”  
  
He shrugged. “Just the grounds. Things that stay still. Obviously, I won’t be taking action shots anymore. I guess scenic photography’s all I got left.”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “That’s not true. You know Victor, right?” She leaned in to whisper. “Almost half of his body is robotic and, if we work with him to develop something for your…”  
  
“No, thanks.”  
  
“What? Jimmy, you could have a whole new…”  
  
“No. Thanks,” he said again, rather loudly.  
  
“But…”  
  
“Chloe, I’m not looking for robot parts or any kind of deeper involvement with your hero friends. It’s not… It’s your world, not mine,” he finished quietly, staring at the table.  
  
“Okay,” she breathed, trying to think of what the plan was now. She’d spent the whole ride over with Oliver talking about cybernetic hands as well as Jimmy coming to stay at Isis while Victor tested models and trained him for using them. It had all seemed so clear. And now he’d shot both down. “I know the hero world takes some getting used to.” She smiled. “But you know Oliver pretty well and…”  
  
“Yeah. And he’s great,” Jimmy cut in. “And I’m grateful to him for setting this up. I mean, the guy’s saved me twice now and Clark’s probably saved me more times than I know and… I’m not trying to put them down. But I’m also not going to be a part of that world. Don’t get me wrong, it looks pretty cool from the outside, but I only spent a few hours in it. And look what happened.” He pulled his right hand over the stump that used to hold his left. “I’m not built for it.”  
  
Chloe nodded, trying to find a new plan. “Okay. Then we… You know, I could take a step back, too. I’ve got recovery ahead and we can just stay at The Talon and…”  
  
“No, thanks.”   
  
She shook her head. “You keep saying that.”  
  
“Because I’ve been rehearsing it,” Jimmy said, finally meeting her eyes. “I knew this would happen, Chloe. I also knew that I wouldn’t let it happen.”  
  
“Let what happen? I’m just trying to.”  
  
“It was a mistake, Chloe. And it’s not one I’m going to make again. Hell, our wedding was even…” He huffed loudly. “A destructive beast actually rampaged through it. If that's not a sign, then I don't know what is.”  
  
“Don’t say that.” She gripped his good hand. “Jimmy, I'm willing to...”  
  
“To what? Take a step back from your hero friends? Hole up in The Talon with me? Get remarried? Be with me out of guilt? I don't want that and I don't want this world and I don’t want you!”  
  
Chloe drew back, her eyes stinging.  
  
Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I’m saying this wrong. I…” He met her eyes. “Considering you've been dead for a summer, the last thing I want to do is try to make you feel like crap. But, Chloe, I don’t want you back, especially like this. If I stay, we'd just coming back to the same problem. I don't come first. I never really have.”  
  
“Because I never put you first,” she said softly. “And I realize that now. I can change and…”  
  
“The worst part is I know I _shouldn’t_ come first,” he cut in. “I know what you’ve been dealing with now, all this time.” He laughed, kind of humorlessly. “I felt better when I found out, you know, that all that stuff with Davis was for Clark, then I had to think. I’ve had lots of time to think. Why should that make me feel better? For the last three years, we keep running into the same problem.”  
  
“But now you know everything, so…”  
  
“Yes. Because I found out. You’d never have told me.”  
  
She couldn’t deny it. “It wasn’t mine to tell. But you’re in on this now. We have no secrets and I can help you adjust and…”  
  
“And would you be saying any of this if I still had a hand?”   
  
She stared at him. She wanted to answer with a yes. But she wasn’t sure she could.  
  
“Chloe, I’m not bitter. I’m really not. I’m also not going to be in a relationship where you're only there because you think you should be and where… Well, someone else always comes first. And I know who. That letter…”  
  
“Jimmy, we talked about that. That was a teenage crush. Clark and I have long since moved past it and I told you, then, that I loved  _you_.”  
  
“Yes. You did. You said it a lot. But actions speak louder.” He sighed. “I'm not even sure if I really wanted you or just... who I thought you were. I think I loved this idea, this package. You know, insanely smart and pretty and somehow into me and I kept wondering what the catch was. I think I obsessed about that catch. And I finally found it.” He shrugged. “Why did you marry me at all?”  
  
“Because I loved you,” she said dully.  
  
“Not enough or… not in the right way or you would have told me things at some point, even lied better. You can't bring someone into your life halfway. Jesus, Chloe.” He ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. “I even _get_ it. That’s the hardest part. I’ve had all summer to think about it and… I keep coming up with the same answer. This never worked and it never will.”  
  
“But… Jimmy, I did love you,” she finally finished, the fight draining out of her.  
  
“Same here. But it wasn’t enough.” He smiled sadly. “Hey, we married at twenty-two. If anything, we can just join a long line of stupid kids who didn't think it through. And…” He actually took her hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Chloe. Hell, I screwed things up, too. My rock bottom was stealing money from your apartment. But I guess that was a good thing. Oliver caught me and he helped me clean up my act. He’s done a lot for me.” He chuckled. “Including summer vacay in this swanky place.”  
  
Chloe tried to smile. But she just couldn’t. Maybe everything he was saying was true, but it still stung.  
  
“He’s even set me up with a job.” He shrugged. “Queen Industries’ Oklahoma City branch needs a visual marketing director for their electronics division. Henry James Olsen will be filling the position.”  
  
She stared at him, dazed. “Henry James, Oklahoma,” she breathed. “I was kind of taken aback when I signed in here. I thought you didn’t want to go by Henry. With your father…”  
  
“Well, it’s been a long summer. Henry Senior and I… we’ve talked. We think we could be a family again, make up for lost time. He’s changed.”  
  
“That’s… I don’t know what to say to that.” He’d told her all about his father the night of their rather harrowing engagement party. How he’d treated him, treated his mother, how she left. She could understand why he’d lied, built a different life for himself, refused to call himself by his father’s name. He’d only stayed till he was eighteen, then he helped his grandparents get custody of little James and he never looked back.  
  
She’d thought, at the time, that it meant they were right for each other. She knew something about growing up a motherless latchkey kid, though never abused. If anything, her father had been indifferent in the end, not even showing up for their wedding. She’d thought of them as orphans who found each other. She told him that, though she didn’t tell him anything else, even after she promised they wouldn’t keep secrets anymore.  
  
_God!_  He was right. She’d never let him in, not even after he told her every last secret he had. She shook her head. “Jimmy…”  
  
“It’s actually Henry. I should get used to it again as that’s the only way they know me back home.”  
  
“Henry… God, that feels weird,” she breathed. “Are you sure this is good for you?”  
  
“It’s not just about me. And it’s not just about my dad, either. But he’s been sober a year. He got custody of Jimmy back from my grandparents. And I need to be there to make sure he doesn't screw up _both_ his kids. And, obviously, I’ll need help too.” He held up his left arm. “Opening jars and all...”  
  
“You’re not screwed up,” she said with a sniff. “You’re… you were always the sweetest guy I knew.”  
  
He laughed. “It’s not like I’m dying, Chlo. There’s always email, facebook, twitter, handless helper forums…”  
  
She let out a watery laugh. “How are you so okay about this?”  
  
“Yeah. You’re kind of a wreck. It’s almost like you’ve come out of a coma or something.” He smiled.  
  
She swiped at her eyes. “I’ve been crying and fainting all day. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
  
“Well, you’ve had less time to think about things than I have. I get it. I just need you to know…” He squeezed her hand. “I don't blame you and I don't blame Clark.”  
  
Her head snapped up. “Clark… Jimmy, for the millionth time, there’s nothing between me and…”  
  
“Yeah. I know.” He sighed. “Nothing between you. Best friends. Just like family.” He chuckled, then his eyes grew serious. “Maybe if you say it enough, it’ll make it true.”  
  
******************  
  
“…and, as soon as you’re up to it, you can go back to active watchtowering. With hazard pay, of course. I am nothing if not a fair employer,” Oliver was saying. “We’ll go over the new equipment, servers, bouncy castles, clowns…”  
  
Chloe turned to Oliver. “Huh?”  
  
“I knew you weren’t listening.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she groaned, leaning her head on the window, watching the darkened farm land slowly morph into factories. “Just thinking about Jimmy. Or… Henry.”  
  
“Yeah. I figured you’d need some time to adjust.”  
  
“You knew what he was going to say?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Well, you could have prepared me a little.”  
  
“It wasn’t my place.” He nudged her with his elbow as he shifted gears. “Chloe, did you really want to spend the rest of your life making this up to him?”  
  
“I was ready to,” she realized. “But maybe he was right. About some things.” Not all things. Not about her and Clark. He didn’t exactly say the words, but she knew Jimmy thought his absence meant she was rushing into Clark’s arms. And he couldn’t be more wrong.   
  
They’d changed the subject. When visiting hours were over, they’d said goodbye, promised to keep up. It all ended pleasantly, she supposed, but she was still bothered. She couldn’t stop thinking of what he’d said. She turned to Oliver. “He thinks there’s something between me and Clark.”  
  
Oliver kept his eyes on the road.   
  
“Why does he always think that?”  
  
“No comment.”  
  
“Oliver! Did you say something to him?”  
  
“No. I didn’t have to.”  
  
“But there’s nothing…”  
  
“I’m staying out of this.”  
  
“Out of what? There’s nothing to stay out of,” she said, exasperated.   
  
“Exactly.”  
  
She huffed and stared out the window. They were near the city now.  
  
“But you know what?” Oliver suddenly burst out. “You skip out on your whole life to save him, then pretty much die, he sleeps in a chair by your bed for three months, hunts you like a hound, and let’s not even mention how many times he put your life before everything else, but… You’re right. There’s nothing.”  
  
“Well, there isn’t.” She shook her head. She knew he’d put her first a lot, even fairly recently, considering the Brainiac fiasco. She’d do the same. It’s what friends do. She also knew he’d been chasing her down, since he’d warned her about it when she foolishly called him on the road with Davis. But… “Clark slept in a chair?” She wasn’t sure why that, of all things, would bother her. She’d seen his jacket on her bed, but she’d thought it was just left around, like everyone else’s scattered belongings.  
  
“It’s no big deal. That’s what Clark said.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I guess it wasn’t, for him, super strength probably means you can… sleep anywhere,” she said, slightly dazed.  
  
“But there’s a perfectly good couch in there. He just kept thinking he’d miss it when you woke.” Oliver laughed. “Which he did. Hilarious. Anyway, I’m staying out of it.”  
  
“Because there’s nothing to stay out of,” she repeated.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“Have you always been this annoying?”  
  
Oliver chuckled and glanced sideways at her. “You and me have never minced words, Chloe. It’s one of the things I like about us.” He turned his attention back to the freeway as he pulled onto the exit ramp. “Sure, that’s given us some ups and downs, but it also keeps us honest. So I’m staying out of it.” He shrugged. “Because I don’t think you’re ready to hear my  _honest_ opinion.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“Staying out of it.”  
  
“There’s nothing…”  
  
“Oh, look! We’re here!” He pulled in front of Isis. “I’ll just drop you here. My lot’s a block away.” He ran a hand across his dash. “Don’t like to park the Jag on this street. I’ve gone through three hood ornaments already, so… Door code is five-one-four-zero-nine.”  
  
“Five-one-four-zero-nine,” she repeatedly dumbly as she opened the door. “But…”  
  
“Emil’s been waiting for you in his office. Second floor. Third door. Used to be insurance, I think. Door, please.”  
  
“Oh, sorry.” She shut it, staring after him as he drove away. “Wait a minute.” She took a few steps, but he was gone. “This isn’t over,” she muttered. First Jimmy, now Oliver and, she also suspected, Dinah were treating her and Clark as some kind of foregone conclusion. And it was ridiculous! She had to set them straight. But she had to talk to Emil first. He was waiting for her, after all.   
  
She punched in the code and moved to the elevator, barely seeing. There was so much to think about. They had to discuss her power. Oliver seemed to think she should go right back to “watchtowering,” as he put it. But she had other ideas. They were barely formed, but they were there. With her power, she should be on mission, provide on-site healing if needed, get fight training in case…  
  
She took a deep breath as the elevator stopped with a muted  _ding._  One thing at a time. First, she had to feel Emil out, then she could convince the others. It might not be easy. Clark would be the hardest to…   
  
“Clark!” She stopped, a hand going her chest, finding him pacing all over what had been Metro Insurance. “You startled me.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Uh… No. It’s totally… It’s fine,” she mumbled, her eyes landing on the floor. It was the stupidest thing, but she was finding it hard to look at him.   
  
_…he sleeps in a chair by your bed for three months…_  
  
“I was just expecting Emil.” She shook it off, forcing herself to meet his eyes – except he wasn’t meeting hers.  
  
“He had to check in at Met Gen,” Clark muttered. “I just…” His eyes briefly touched on hers. “I figured I’d wait for you. Because I know what you’re thinking and… we need to talk first.”  
  
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean by that? There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing’s going on,” she said in a rush. “I mean, the chair thing… It’s not like there’s anything going on.” She gestured to him widely. “Look who I’m telling. I mean, you know that. It’s just the rest of them that… you know…” She trailed off.  
  
Clark finally looked at her. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“The…” She crossed her arms, trying to still her hands. “What are  _you_  talking about?”  
  
“Your abilities.”  
  
“I knew it,” she sighed, moving to a sofa and sinking into it. “Clark, I just woke up today. I haven’t made a decision yet. But…”  
  
“Yes. Then we’re agreed. This is no time to even think about it.”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” she clarified, folding her hands in her lap. “Clark, I know you’ve never been behind me using my powers…”  
  
“Because look what happens! Chloe, you died!”  
  
“But I came back!” She stood. “Clark, I came back every time!”  
  
“So what does that mean? Is that going to be your life now? Are you going to haunt the hospitals and…”  
  
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I was thinking more like… help the team. Be on mission, have a code name and…”  
  
“And die over and over,” he said hoarsely, rushing to her, gripping her arms. “And I have to wait, wondering if, this time, it sticks?”  
  
Her eyes softened. “Clark…”  
  
“It’s been three times, Chloe,” he said lowly. ”And it doesn’t get easier, sitting there, watching you, resisting looking right through your skin because I know I don’t have the right…”  
  
“Clark…”  
  
“And I know, even saying this… I know I don’t have the right to tell you what to do with your life. But it’s… Chloe, don’t throw it away.”  
  
“I don’t see it that way.”  
  
“That’s all I can see. What are you going to do? Call yourself The Phoenix or…”  
  
“I was kind of mulling over Nightingale. It’s kind of poetic, like Florence…”  
  
“Oh, my God!” He released her and paced away.   
  
She didn’t let him, gripping his jacket. His red jacket. Not the blue one that she’d found tangled in her bed. The bed he slept near for three months. “I know you were worried,” she whispered.  
  
He laughed hollowly. “That’s kind of an understatement.”  
  
“Oliver told me you pretty much stayed there every night.” She smiled, pulling him to face her. “Sleeping in a chair, apparently.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I get stiff necks or anything. It was no big deal. Also, it was only a few hours. I had to go to the farm early and make sure the animals got fed and…”  
  
“Thank you,” she cut in, winding her arms around his chest.   
  
It took a moment, but she felt him relax against her, hands moving to her back lightly. “For what?”  
  
“Being there,” she whispered, settling her head against his chest, breathing in his familiar smell of hay and wind and plain soap.   
  
“I’ll always be there.”  
  
She held on tight and finally felt him squeeze her back. It had been so long. She actually had to think to remember the last time he’d held her like this, exactly like this, her head tucked under his chin, his hands splayed on her back. It was always, without fail, the safest she ever felt and she couldn’t even remember the last time.  
  
No. She did. It had been that night he’d pulled Jimmy’s plastic ring from his pocket, almost a year ago now…  
  
_“When Jimmy and I get married, things will probably change -- between us, I mean.”_  
  
And they had. That was the last time they hugged as if they’d never let go. He’d told her that her happiness was the most important thing in the world, that she’d have a wonderful life with Jimmy, not to worry about anything else.   
  
But she had been worried, so she’d held on tight, wanting to feel safe with him just one last time before everything changed. It was supposed to be the last time. Right now, she was glad it wasn’t. But that didn’t make it any easier to let go.  
  
But she did, mostly because Clark pulled away after giving her a sudden and awkward pat on the head… which was fine. She cleared her throat and gave him a smile. They really should cool it on the hugging action. This was exactly the kind of behavior that had people seeing things that weren’t there.  _Ridiculous, imaginary…_  
  
“So how’s Jimmy?” Clark asked, rather loudly.  
  
“Uh… You know, he was better than I thought.” She moved to the couch and forced herself to sit. “I mean, I guess it has been a few months. It was still weird to hear him joke about the…” She held up her hand. “But he seems good, taking scenic pictures and all that.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. I know. I visited him last week. I was just…” Clark was pacing again. “You know, he said he was going to move to Oklahoma. I figured you’d talk him right out of that.”  
  
He was making her dizzy. “Why would I do that?”  
  
“Well, if you two want to make it work.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Could you stop?” She put a hand to her stomach.  
  
He stilled. “What?”  
  
“The pacing. Maybe don’t start that again. I don’t know if someone could be starving and nauseated all at once, but I’m kind of…”  
  
“It’s not going to happen?”  
  
“Oh. Well…” She took a deep breath. “Jimmy’s moving to Oklahoma and we’re kind of already divorced and… I mean, it was already over."  
  
"And you're okay with that?"  
  
"I... I am," she said, surprised that she was. She hadn't had time to decide, between Jimmy blindsiding her and the anger with Oliver for not warning her about it, she'd barely had time to think how she felt. "I feel like I shouldn't be, but... I am."  
  
Clark met her eyes, then, held them for longer than he had since she'd woken up. "Uh... You were so worried about him. I thought you might want to... start things up again."  
  
"I did a few hours ago." She shook her head, bleary with how things had changed so quickly. "I mean, he rejected me and... Should I be more upset or something?" She met Clark's steady gaze.  
  
"Not if you aren't," he said, sounding strangely breathless.  
  
"It wasn’t like I had my heart set on starting things up again. But… I thought that’s what would happen. Like us being together would make things up to him.” She rolled her eyes and sat back. “It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”  
  
“Yeah. It kinda does.”  
  
“Gee, thanks,” she droned as he took a seat next to her.  
  
“I don’t mean it like…” He turned to her. “Guilt is no reason to be with someone. It doesn’t work. I feel like it took me forever to figure that out.”  
  
“How were you ever with someone out of…”  
  
“Lana,” he broke in. “I kept thinking the reason we never worked was because we never got a fair shot, but it was because we were never… We weren’t together for the right reasons. Sometimes I think, deep down, I always tried so hard to make it work because I thought being with her would make up for what she lost because of me.”  
  
Chloe sat up, turning more fully to him. “Her parents? Clark, how many times…”  
  
“I know. It was beyond my control. But it was always there, underneath everything.” He shrugged. “It never worked.”  
  
“Some grown-ups we are,” she muttered. “What the hell does make it work? Obviously not marrying barely out of your teens…”  
  
“Or breaking up a million times,” he grunted.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“I was talking about me.”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” She found herself laughing.   
  
He did, too. “Or kidnapping someone from her engagement party.”  
  
“Or getting kidnapped from your own.” She laughed harder. “I even got kidnapped from my wedding!"

He let out a loud laugh. "Maybe it was a hint or..." He shook his head. "I can't even talk, with how my love life's gone."

"Maybe we’re both kind of messed up,” she said, sobering.  
  
“Well, I guess that’s why we’re friends.” He reached for her hand. “I mean, if anyone can put up with us, it’s…”  
  
“Us,” she finished, smiling.  
  
He smiled, too. She waited for him to let go of her hand. He didn’t. “I’m trying to remember…” He stopped, shaking his head.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just… I’m trying to remember the last time we were like this. I feel like, all year, everything between us has been so tense.”  
  
“Well, with all that happened,” she squeezed his hand back. “Clark, with all I did…”  
  
“Don’t. We’ve both messed up this year. You weren’t the only one who made some… truly horrible decisions.”  
  
“You don’t even know how many.”  
  
“Neither do you.”  
  
“I need to tell you…”  
  
“You don’t,” he said firmly. “Chloe, last year was the darkest time of my life and that’s saying a lot. I don’t want to rehash or relive it. Can’t we just move on?”  
  
She stared at him. He’d been so strange today, avoiding her eyes, avoiding  _her_. She’d thought they were building up to having it out, not this. “Do you think we can?” she asked softly.  
  
“I promised myself I’d try.” He stared at their hands. “The night you left, I swore that, if I ever found you, I wouldn’t let us be that way again. Then I swore it again, after Eva Greer, that if I ever found you for real…”  
  
“For real?” She tried to catch his eyes. “Who’s Eva Greer?”  
  
“I keep forgetting all you don’t know.” He rubbed his thumb rather absently over her palm. “She was Tess’ assistant. But she looked a whole lot like you for a few days there. Even fooled me. Maybe because I wanted to believe…” He finally met her eyes. “That’s not the point. The point is that I missed you. I even missed you before you were gone. I don’t want another year like that.”  
  
“Neither do I,” she agreed on a whisper. All questions and confessions aside, that much was true. “And I missed you, too.”  
  
“Then we’re agreed.” He smiled -- that sort of dopey, one-sided smile that always seemed to end their fights.   
  
This was usually where she made a flippant comment and rolled her eyes, which was his cue to say something sweet and earnest about how much she meant to him. Then hugs and cocoa all around.  
  
But they seemed to be frozen, staring. She suddenly realized their knees were touching and his thumb was still making tiny circles on her palm. “I did a lot of thinking when you were gone,” he said, so low she barely heard it. “Sometimes I wonder if...”  
  
“Oh, you’re here.”  
  
They both turned to the door.  
  
“Sorry about the mess in here,” Emil said, balancing a cup of coffee and several files. He dropped both on the desk. “I’ve been bringing charts home as some of my patients are… Doesn’t matter.” He leaned on the desk. “Clark, you were supposed to call me when she was back.”  
  
Clark let go of her hand. She wished he hadn’t.  
  
He stood. “We just got caught up talking. I… I know you said you wanted to talk to her alone, but…”  
  
“Yes, I do. I hate to be a stickler, but doctor-patient confidentiality is involved.”  
  
“I know, but there’s more than her affected by…”  
  
“You know, I am in the room.” Chloe stood, shaking off the strange, lazy feeling that had stolen over her. There were more important things than her and Clark, as hard as that was to think just seconds after… whatever the hell that was. “And it’s fine, Emil. Clark can stay.”   
  
Emil seemed hesitant. “Chloe… There are some complications we need to discuss… and they’re rather personal. I really think you and I should…”  
  
“She just said I can stay,” Clark cut in, taking her hand again.  
  
Emil ignored him. “Are you sure?”  
  
She wasn’t. But she was loathe to let Clark leave. Whatever just happened, she wanted to make sure it wasn’t something they ignored, moved right past, brushed off like so many other moments between them. She held tight to his hand and nodded.  
  
Emil sighed. “Then… a few questions first. How is Jimmy doing?”  
  
“He’s fine. I mean, he seemed okay.”  
  
“So he’s adjusted well to… the changes. Do you feel he’s in a stable place?”  
  
“Uh… I’m confused. I mean, he did seem stable. Surprisingly stable. What does that have to do with…”  
  
“Maybe you should sit down.”  
  
“Okay.” She did, pulling Clark with her.  
  
“The first thing you need to know is that your meteor infection was never gone, only dormant. I’ve studied other cases and I have a theory of what might have brought them back.” He seemed nervous. “You see, changes in hormone levels can sometimes affect meteor mutants and… Well, take the case of Desiree Atkins. She…”  
  
“Emil, please don’t give a history lesson, here.” She laughed. “My powers are back. I choose to see this as a good thing.”  
  
“Yes, I’ve gathered that, but… That’s not the only complication.” He stared briefly at Clark before cutting his eyes back to her. “I actually still think you and I should talk alone,”  
  
“Whatever the complication is, I’m sure Clark should know. Maybe everyone. Is this about how they manifest? You should know that the first time, it was tears, but it evolved to touch and…”  
  
“Chloe, this isn’t about your powers. At least… not directly. It’s related as there’s a reason they came back. That brings me back to Mr. Olsen. He probably should hear this, too.”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t understand. What does Jimmy have to do with my powers?”  
  
“He’s going to be a father,” Emil said quickly, then cringed. “By that, I mean… you’re pregnant. I’m sorry. I’m not known for my bedside manner.”  
  
Clark’s hand was gone.   
  
“The two of you might want to discuss… See, the hormonal changes seemed to have brought your abilities out of their dormant state. That’s what I’m trying to say. Very badly.”  
  
There were several coffee stains on the carpet. Emil was kind of messy, wasn’t he?  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
She looked up.  
  
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
  
She wasn’t sure she did. “Jimmy’s moving to Oklahoma,” she said dully.   
  
“Well, perhaps he might want to rethink that,” Emil said gently, crouching in front of her. “Given the situation.”  
  
She shook her head, her vision blurring. Was she crying? Again? “It’s impossible.”  
  
“I’ve known for some time. I didn’t want to tell the others as I wasn’t sure what your decision would be. But you’re past the first trimester and… Well, your options aren’t what they might have been had you woken up before… You see, he really should be told.”  
  
“No, he shouldn’t,” she heard herself saying, staring at him, then at Clark, who was on the other side of the room now. So far away. And he’d only get farther. “Jimmy doesn’t need to know.” She swallowed hard, pulling her eyes away from Clark. “You see, we haven’t been together since before the wedding.”  
  
Emil’s eyes widened. “Then…” He turned, looked at Clark.  
  
Clark only shook his head.   
  
Emil turned back to her. “Then…”  
  
“It’s Davis,” she heard Clark say.  
  
Just before he walked out.  
  
****************  
  
“You can’t be serious,” Tess scoffed loudly.   
  
“Yes, I can.”   
  
“Well, forget it.” She hadn’t even finished her coffee. Why was he pulling this shit on her before she even finished her coffee? Lex had called her to meet him at The Planet at 5 am. That was ludicrous. The fact that he was waiting in her office dressed like an overgrown punk with long hair under a hoodie, for God’s sake, was even more ridiculous. She’d just finished reflecting that things couldn’t get weirder when he told her that Chloe Sullivan needed to be rehired by The Daily Planet. “I finally got rid of that entire cabal. People actually  _listen_  to me now. This place has been running smoothly for the first time since way before I came in.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure things will be fine.” He leaned on her desk. “Besides, this  _wasn’t_  a suggestion.”  
  
Tess set down her coffee, only just resisting tossing it right in Lex’s face. “Well, this  _is_  a refusal,” she spat. “Do you know what it’s like to be surrounded by people who undermine you at every turn, accuse you every chance they get?”  
  
“Way better than you do,” he said, smiling blandly. “But it’s a necessary evil. We need to keep her close now that she’s back among the living.”  
  
Tess narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you know?”  
  
“When you’re ready.”  
  
“I’m sick to death of that word,” she growled. “And what makes you think she’d even say yes?”  
  
“I know a different Chloe Sullivan than you do. Trust me. She couldn’t say no.”  
  
“Maybe not to The Daily Planet, but to me…”  
  
“So you sweeten it up,” Lex said impatiently. “Talk me down if you need to. I fired her for non-work related reasons. I’m such an asshole! This paper needs reporters like her. You’ll seat her under the Tiffany lamps. Whatever she needs to hear. Just get her there!”  
  
Tess threw up her hands. “Great! Why don’t I just hire Kent back, while I’m at it?”  
  
Lex laughed. “That would be even better. Try that, too.”  
  
“Damn it, Lex! What’s making this happen? What do you know?”  
  
“When you’re…”  
  
“Fuck you,” she growled, picking up her phone. “How the hell do I even contact her? She disappeared with Bloome. Obviously, _he_ came back with that thing terrorizing the city, but I have no idea where…”  
  
“She’s in Metropolis with her little gang. Has been for months. Safe and sound,” he shrugged, “aside from a little coma.”  
  
“How do you know all this?”  
  
“Just contact Queen,” he said, ignoring her question. “Start with him. Lay the foundation. Toss me under the bus a little. That always makes him happy.”  
  
“But why…”  
  
“We need to keep an eye on her. That’s all you need to know.”

************

_Chloe’s pregnant with Davis/Dooms baby? Check.  What can I say? It was what my patron required.   
  
Now for the hardest part of all… How do our heroes deal? And can our duo find their way to each other over all these hurdles?  
  
*Rolls up sleeves* _


	6. Chapter 6

 

**Banner by Bkwurm1**

_And time yet for a hundred indecisions,  
And for a hundred visions and revisions,_  
  
**Chapter 6**

  
“Just hold still.”  
  
Chloe obeyed, of course, even with the slight stinging pain of the needle. It was all she’d been doing for days now. Just holding still. Obeying.  
  
When Dinah chirped at her, talking about everything but the situation, she listened quietly.   
  
When Bart fed her samples of everything he could whip up, she dutifully took in every bite.  
  
And when Emil poked and prodded her, she sat there… or laid there, depending on what he was doing.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked dully. She didn’t really want to know, but felt she  _should_  want to.  
  
“Amniocentesis,” Emil answered, transferring a needle full of fluid into a tube. “We’re going to analyze your amniotic fluid and…”  
  
“Thank you. That’s enough.” She didn’t like these words. These very pregnant words.  _Amniotic, ultrasound, fetus._  They didn’t apply to her, really, but to...  
  
Emil turned to her. “Chloe, you need to…”  
  
“Rest, right?” she cut in. “I need to rest tonight. That’s all I ever need to do.”  
  
“Well… Yes. Physically.”  
  
“Can I sit up?”  
  
“Just take it slow,” he said after a moment, offering a hand.  
  
She took it and pulled her legs over the side of the table in Emil’s medical bay. It was very neat, not at all like his cluttered office, all gleaming surfaces and bright lights.   
  
“I’ll take this to the lab myself and…”  
  
“Yes, you do that,” she cut in. “Thank you.” She didn’t want to know much beyond that. “What do I need with dinner?”  
  
He sighed. “I gave Bart your pills. I figured, as he’s taking care of your meals… You know, tell him to go easy on cured meats, with the nitrates, and obviously, the…”  
  
“Caffeine, I know. Just one cup,” she droned. He seemed to always remind her. Coffee. All her life with it in limitless supply and now… just a cup that would dwindle to a half at some dreaded point. “Can I go?”  
  
Emil hesitated. “Sure,” he finally said.   
  
She hopped off and moved to the door.  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
She turned back.  
  
“I’ll take good care of you. I'll be here through this. Don’t worry.”  
  
She smiled. “Not worried at all.”   
  
What was there to worry about? Women had been doing this for ages, hadn’t they? Her body had been specifically designed for just this, hadn’t it? This was just… nothing to worry about.  
  
Except when she thought about it. When she thought of those few moments with Davis, the absentee father in all this, wondering what exactly was inside her. Because there was more than just Davis in that room, there was the beast hovering at the edges… and maybe not just of her mind. Emil had poked and prodded and sampled and swabbed… but what had he found?   
  
She didn’t want to know. Because then she had to worry about it, worry the way everyone else did… everyone that wasn’t Emil endlessly testing, Dinah determinedly chattering, and Bart constantly feeding.  
  
There was Victor, sometimes staring at her stomach fearfully whenever she passed as if he expected a creature to rip directly out of it.  
  
There was Oliver, trying to meet her eyes, trying to smile, failing at both.  
  
And there was Clark. His reaction seemed to say it all. He wasn’t there.  
  
She sometimes heard that he checked in for patrol . Otherwise, he was nowhere to be found.  
  
**************************  
  
Tess wasn’t even sure Clark would be here and belatedly wondered why she was bothering. But it was days and several unanswered calls later and she had to try.  
  
Tess didn’t contact Queen. Having dealt with him all spring on this merger of theirs, she’d become more than a little worn out with his constant lateness, functional alcoholism, and flippant seduction techniques. Beyond signing the paperwork, she didn’t want to bother with him.  
  
But she did find it curious, why Lex seemed so confident that Oliver Queen had some kind of “in” with Sullivan and Kent. She doubted Oliver would be any more forthcoming than Lex about just why yet another billionaire shared some strange connection to the farm boy and his tiny blonde pal.  
  
She was getting a little sick of the run-around. She supposed that was why she found herself pulling down the dirt drive of Kent’s farm. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t get another version of the run-around, but Kent was such a horrifically bad liar that she always left him feeling she knew a little more than before.   
  
Of course, she had to remind herself that she wasn’t there for answers. She was there for recruitment, ridiculous as it seemed. The answers were just a personal bonus. She saw his truck in the drive, but knew that meant nothing, from what she knew of Clark and just what he could do. He could be anywhere.   
  
Still, if he wasn’t home, that was just as well. It had been some time since she’d had a good look around the Kent Farm.   
  
But he was. He emerged from the barn before she’d even stopped her engine. She choked on the humid air as she opened her door, feeling sweat immediately break out on her face. He approached and she noted he looked dry as a bone except for the oil on his hands. Interesting. She’d wondered if the invulnerability Lionel’s journal spoke of applied to mundane things like summer heat.   
  
“I’ve been wondering exactly what you’re doing with your days now,” she said, pasting on a smile as he approached, wiping his hands on a rag. “Tractor repair?”  
  
He shook his head. “Wood chipper. Something’s jammed in the machinery. Any reason you’re here?” He looked tired, annoyed, as if this was the last thing he wanted. Good. She liked him better off-balance.   
  
“Well, I was looking over our personnel files and noticed a discrepancy. Mind if I come in?” She moved past him into the barn.  
  
“What disc…”  
  
“You know, the last time I was here,” she cut in, looking around, “we had the most honest talk we ever did. I’m kind of hoping we can continue in that vein.”  
  
“Is that what you’d call it?” Clark sighed and moved past her, back to what she supposed was his wood chipper. “I thought you were being kind of cryptic, talking about secrets and destiny and civilizations that depended on me destroying a beast and all kinds of crazy…”   
  
“Well, the beast is gone. It seems you took care of things, didn’t you?”  
  
She heard his very obviously forced laugh. “Me?”  
  
“Listen, keep dancing around the issue all you want, but I’m not in the mood.” She really wasn’t. It was damned hot in here. “The facts are that I know your secret, however much you deny it and I have done nothing to harm you.” It was true. Even with Lex out and about and very much alive, Clark had remained untouched. “I’m not saying that means you owe me anything, not even the benefit of the doubt,” she said lightly, “just heavily implying it.”  
  
He turned to her. “Why are you here, Tess?” he asked again.  
  
“Like I said, I was looking over The Daily Planet’s personnel files and noticed that at least two reporters left without proper notice. Just stopped showing up.”  
  
“It took you this long to notice?”   
  
Another question. As bad as he was at lying, he was an expert at dodging the truth. “No. It just took me this long to care. You left without filing any of the proper paperwork.” So had Lane, actually, though she’d been effectively terminated the moment her fist met Tess’ face. The less said about that, the better. “And we’re under-staffed.”  
  
He shrugged. “Seems the paper’s still getting out.”  
  
She scoffed. “Well, thanks for caring. You know, it’s not every day this kind of work opportunity comes to someone without a degree and whose only experience was on a high school paper.”  
  
“Then why did you hire me?”  
  
_To keep an eye on you._  “To keep an eye on you,” she finally said, trying for honesty again. It seemed to keep him off balance like nothing else. “And now I know why. Now I know your secret. Now I know what you do. If you’ve been staying away because you think I’ll do something with what I know, then at least notice that I haven’t done a _thing_." She held his eyes now, steadily. "Come back to The Planet.”  
  
“I have other things to…”  
  
“Yes, I know what you do. I also know you’d do it more efficiently in the city. And I’m willing, as I’ve shown, to turn a blind eye to it.” She smiled. “And I also might think someone with your… special talents might prove a real asset to a newspaper. You’ve put in enough time in the basement. I could move you to the main bullpen.”  
  
He stared at her for a long time. “It was a great opportunity,” he said slowly, “but I’m no longer interested in journalism. Thank you for the offer.”  
  
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” She dropped her smile as he turned away. This wasn’t over. “While I’m here, do you have a number for Sullivan?”  
  
He turned back sharply. “Chloe?”  
  
“No, the other one.” She forced a laugh. “Yours wasn’t the only unresolved file I looked into. From what I hear, she earned her degree in night school and clocked more than two years at The Planet before being fired on, what I’ve learned, are some very trumped-up grounds.” She smiled. “And I heard she’s back in town.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “From where?”  
  
“From the fact that the man-beast she was running around with showed up again before disappearing,” she said, trying honesty again, holding his stare. “Like I said, I’m assuming you took care of things and saved the damsel. No judgment. But I need staff.”  
  
“She’s not interested,” he said, turning back to his tools.  
  
“You’re sure about that, huh?”  
  
“I know Chloe… well enough.”   
  
Tess noted the hesitation. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.” She sighed loudly. “I did try.”  
  
She tried honesty. She tried enticement. She even tried understanding. Nothing.   
  
But she wasn’t done. She’d just have to work on Sullivan. Maybe Lex was right. Maybe Queen was the way in.  
  
“Good to see you, Clark,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.  
  
*********************  
  
“It’s a good thing you’re back,” Chloe heard Bart hiss loudly. “This place is like a tomb. Maybe you can help me liven things up.”  
  
“Yes. That’s what I’m known for,” John Jones said dryly.  
  
“Well, I’m getting no help from Mutey, over here.” Bart winked at Chloe across the table. “Hasn’t said a word about the peach cobbler I slaved over. You might note the hint of nutmeg. I’ve been experimenting with flavor combinations and…”  
  
“It’s very good,” Chloe cut in quickly, taking a bite to avoid talking any more and in vain hope it would cut off the constant stream of babble. She knew what Bart was trying to do. She could even appreciate it if it wasn’t horribly annoying. Did he expect her to laugh it up, laugh at all? She wished everyone would just stop trying to make her feel better.   
  
Of course, by everyone, she mostly meant Bart and Dinah. The rest of the little dinner crowd, thankfully, seemed to share her preference for silence. They, at least, seemed to understand this was a miserable situation and trying to put a happy face on it was pointless.  
  
“So you’re all better now?” Dinah chirped at Jones.   
  
Of course. Silence was just not allowed.  
  
“Yes. Some time spent on my home planet was…”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. So you read minds, right?” she asked in a rush.  
  
“If you want to put it so…”  
  
“What number am I thinking of?”  
  
“I’m not much for parlor tricks, but I think it’s a nine.” He sighed and stood. “It’s not easy to read with all the other thoughts clouding it over. You all seem to think avoiding the situation is best, but I strongly disagree.”  
  
Oliver put down his fork. “We’re not avoiding anything. Emil’s been running tests and we’re all just… taking time to adjust.”  
  
“No. You’re all deciding what’s best in your own minds without discussing it with the person most affected.” He shook his head. “I don’t like to intrude on personal thoughts, but you’re all rather loud and it’s hard to avoid. Putting this discussion off any longer is doing no one any good.”  
  
Oliver pushed his plate away. “We were planning on having a meeting tonight.”  
  
“Yes. After Chloe’s asleep,” Dinah sneered, “which you know I don’t agree with.”  
  
“I just think it’s best not to upset her in her condition.”  
  
“It’s her condition and her body we’re discussing, so I think she deserves to be part of the discussion more than anyone.”  
  
Chloe just stared at her plate, not sure if she agreed with Dinah. She’d rather not be part of any discussion of this.  
  
“Well, everyone is here now,” Jones said. “So why not get some of this…”  
  
“Not Clark,” Victor supplied.  
  
“He is,” Jones said tiredly. “He’s outside the door, trying to avoid this conversation.”  
  
Sure enough, Clark slumped in, staring at the ground.  
  
“Well, Emil’s on shift at the hospital,” Oliver put in weakly. Then he stood. “But he should be back soon. So we’ll meet in the control room in twenty.”  
  
********************  
  
It was strange, the whole gang together for something like this. It should be for something huge, some world-ending catastrophe, not for something that was so small, it barely seemed real -- something that was, at most, three and a half inches long, according to Emil.   
  
“…and the the cheekbones are visible,” Emil droned. “The first hair is appearing. Just…”  
  
Oliver lifted a hand. “Can I stop you for a second?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“This is the kind of thing we can get from one of those  _What to Expect_  books. I feel like what we really want to know is… what we’re dealing with.”  
  
“That’s what I’m trying to say. This fetus has progressed normally for this… gestational age.”  
  
“So it’s… human?” Dinah asked.  
  
“Like I said, we’re at a stage where it’s hard to tell whether there is anything abnormal developing.”  
  
“So it’s not?”   
  
“Well, it…” Emil let out a long breath. “It’s hard to tell. Right now, I’m only eighty percent sure of the sex, let alone any other developments.”  
  
John grunted next to her and Chloe noticed he was rubbing at his temples. “You okay?” she asked, kind of grateful for the distraction.  
  
“Some of the machinery in here must be emitting some low-level buzz. Maybe I’m just readjusting. I’ve been without my powers for some time. I’m fine. It’s just interfering with my ability to concentrate.”  
  
“Probably doesn’t help that Emil is boring us to tears,” Bart hissed loudly on Chloe’s other side. “Right?”  
  
“I heard that,” Emil said, plugging in a flash drive. “But, fine. Here is a visual aid if it helps.”  
  
Chloe braced herself as the monitors came on, then kept her eyes away from them.  
  
“I’ve been taking 3D ultrasounds periodically,” Emil said, “tracking activity and growth.”  
  
“Whoa.” Bart nudged her. “You seeing this?”  
  
“I’m good.” She was expecting some grainy, black and white footage with a cloudy image shaped like a peanut. This looked almost like something… too real.  
  
Dinah gasped. “Is it sucking its thumb?”  
  
“Well, the thumb is near the mouth, but it may just be scratching an itch or...”  
  
"That's even cuter!" Dinah cut him off with a giggle. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”  
  
“I’m only eighty percent sure, but…”  
  
Oliver stood. “I feel like we’re not getting to the point, here. Emil, you knew about this before any of us.”  
  
Victor nodded. “Exactly. What we don’t get is why you didn’t tell anyone.”  
  
“Well, I assumed that Olsen was the father and that this was Chloe’s business alone.”  
  
“But you must have considered the possibility that…”  
  
“It would still have been Chloe’s business alone,” Dinah said loudly, glaring at Oliver.  
  
“Fine. But the fact is that someone  _else_  is the father,” Oliver said tightly. “We need to stop beating around the bush and discuss what to do if it inherits some of his traits.” He took a deep breath. “Do I have to be the one to say it?”  
  
“Wow.” Bart stood and paced to the window. “I’m not touching this.” Clark was at the window, obviously also wanting no part of this discussion. Chloe knew the feeling.  
  
“This is still Chloe’s call,” Dinah said, “no matter what.”  
  
“Chloe is the one who could be ripped apart from the inside," Oliver hissed, "if or when this thing decides it takes after…”  
  
Dinah cut him off. “Emil said we don’t know anything for sure…”  
  
“Yes, but to be safe…”  
  
Emil put up a hand. “No, if you think we need to speculate for a worst case scenario, that’s fair. I just think we should approach this rationally. I have given this a good deal of thought, myself and…” He stood and pulled out his flash drive, making the screens blessedly blank. “Here’s the issue… One thing we knew for sure was that any attempts to harm Davis Bloome, even in human form, only backfired. In fact, they made him stronger. If the… offspring has inherited that trait, then attempting anything against it could cause more harm and, incidentally, could strengthen… inherited traits.” He sighed. “Added to that is the reemergence of Chloe’s innate healing ability and whether the embryo is also benefiting from that as, I think I explained before, that ability only reemerged due to the change in hormone levels.”  
  
Oliver rubbed at his eyes. “Can you put that in a nutshell?”  
  
“I don’t think we have any options at this point.”  
  
“So what do we do?” Chloe heard herself saying.  
  
“For now, we keep track of it.” Emil moved closer to her. “I will run every test I can as often as I can. And I will tell you if anything changes. Apart from that, we just… take care of you.”  
  
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be on it.” It was Bart. “Anything you crave. I’m kind of a mad culinary genius, so even if it’s something crazy, I…”  
  
Chloe let out a hitching breath. “I just… I think I need to go to bed.” Bart moved as if to help her up, but she shrugged him off. “I’m okay. Talk to me in five months, maybe.” She forced a smile as she moved past him, past Clark, still silent by the window. He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly as she moved to the door.  
  
“Chloe?”   
  
She turned back to Emil.  
  
“Did you want to know the sex?”  
  
Everyone turned to look at Chloe, even Clark, though he said nothing, of course. “I guess… this situation will come with enough surprises,” she said tiredly.  
  
“It’s most likely a boy.”  
  
She nodded. “Good to know.” Except it wasn’t. She wished she didn’t know. Wished she could keep calling it “it.” Wished none of this had happened.   
  
She cried herself to sleep that night.

*********************  
  
_This was a hard chapter to write, dealing with a divisive issue and trying to figure out where everyone fell._  
  



	7. Chapter 7

** **

**Banner by Bkwurm1**

_There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet_  
  
**Chapter Seven**

  
  
“So… nice day,” Dinah said, popping her head out of her book. “Any thoughts about enjoying it?”  
  
Chloe just grunted and kept fast-forwarding the commercials.   
  
Bart waved her off. “We’re busy.”  
  
“Yeah. We’re only on season two,” Chloe muttered as she quickly rewound. “Went too far. How many episodes are left, anyway?”  
  
“Four, I guess.”  
  
Chloe paused and whirled on Bart. “You told me you had all the episodes!”  
  
“Yes. All one and a half seasons, Babydoll.” Bart shrugged and squeezed more cheese onto his cracker. “We’ve watched almost all of them. Isn’t it the best, though?”  
  
“It’s horrible,” Dinah sneered.  
  
“I know,” Bart said with his mouth full. “That’s why it’s awesome. So creepy. I’ve had the worst nightmares about this kid,” he pointed at an egregiously spray-tanned first-grader. “She was a glittery shark and she gnawed my whole leg off.”  
  
“Little girls being paraded around like this,” Dinah said hotly. “How can you support it?”  
  
“How am I supporting it?” Bart snorted. “I’m making fun of it.”  
  
“You’re watching it!”  
  
“Yes, to mock it.” Bart nudged Chloe. “Is it just me or is Dinah no fun these days?”  
  
“I don’t know. Hand me my root beer,” Chloe muttered. She’d have preferred a glass of wine or an actual beer with TV this trashy, but… she didn’t like to think about why she couldn’t have those things.  
  
Dinah just huffed and curled her legs up, squashing the both of them further away on the couch. Bart was right, though. Dinah was no fun. Why did she have to be _here_ to read those ridiculous baby books when they were busy with  _Toddlers and Tiaras_?  
  
Sometimes she wished The Talon was still free. But it had been leased in the beginning of the summer. This room was all she had. And it was damned small.   
  
Or maybe it just seemed that way because she was never alone in it except when she slept. Bart or Dinah were always around. Not that she minded much. Bart always had snacks.  
  
Some of the clutter had been removed now that the gang weren’t on coma-watch, but Bart insisted the TV and sofa stayed. Good call, really. She’d always scoffed at reality shows before, thought they were a waste of time. But that was before the Kardashians, the Housewives, the Toddlers… Once you watched, it was pretty damned engrossing.  
  
She watched Bart squeezing cheese onto a pepperoni slice. He might be onto something there… except Emil wasn’t letting her have cured meat. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about cheese out of a can. Then again, he’d never mentioned it, so…  
  
“Oh, give me that!” Chloe grabbed the cheese can and held it over her mouth, pressing on the nozzle. If she was going to keep watching this show, she was going need more cheese. It was only appropriate.  
  
“That’s it!” Dinah stood and threw down her book. “I can’t watch this another second!”  
  
“Fine,” Bart groaned loudly. He nudged Chloe. “We should switch to some classic Survivor. Dinah likes that more than…”  
  
“I don’t like any of this,” Dinah cut in. “Eating squeezy cheese and watching reality trash! Is this living? No! Out!” She pulled at Bart’s arm.  
  
“Hey! What did I do?”  
  
“You’re a bad influence. So out! Chloe’s getting dressed!” She shoved him out the door and shut it. “You! Get dressed!”  
  
“I am dressed,” Chloe muttered.  
  
“Yes. In pajamas. And for too long. You have clothes here.”  
  
“Maybe they’re all too tight,” she grumbled.  
  
“All the more reason to get out of here.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Shopping.”  
  
*************************  
  
“I shouldn’t have done this.” Chloe patted her hair. There was slightly less of it and, though she couldn’t see it, she knew it was lighter, blonder. Dinah hadn’t taken no for an answer at the hair salon any more than she had at the nail salon.  
  
“It’s fine,” Dinah said around her mouthful of panini. She hadn’t changed a hair, mostly because she was wearing a wig, the brown wig she seemed to prefer to wear in public. “Besides, they did mostly streaking. Barely even touched your scalp. Even if they did more, in the second trimester, it’s perfectly…”  
  
“No,” she cut in quickly. She didn’t like those words. Those pregnant words. Besides, that wasn’t what was bothering her at the moment. “I mean, I can’t afford this.”  
  
“Like I said before, don’t worry about it.”  
  
“I can’t  _not_  worry about it. Just keep the receipts and, as soon as I can, I will…”  
  
Dinah threw up her hands. “Seriously? I told you not to worry about it.”  
  
“But I can’t afford all this…”  
  
“No, but Oliver can!”  
  
Chloe set down her decaf chai. “Is that what you meant when you said it was taken care of?”  
  
Dinah shrugged. “He owes you hazard pay.”  
  
“Oh, he does not,” Chloe said impatiently. “I think he was overpaying me from the start anyw…”  
  
“Chloe, it’s a mani-pedi, it’s a hairdo.” Dinah waved a hand. “These aren’t even luxuries. They’re basic needs.”   
  
“They  _are_  luxuries and…”  
  
Dinah pulled out her phone. “If I texted Oliver right this second and told him I used the company card for this, I guarantee you…”  
  
“Then do it.”  
  
Dinah squared her shoulders. “I am.” She bent to her phone, tapping at it, then slapped it on the table and tapped her foot loudly against the leg. There was a loud ding and she picked it up again. She smiled rather smugly. “He says to get some damned clothes, too.”  
  
Chloe groaned. “He does not.”  
  
“See for yourself.” Dinah held her phone out.   
  
Chloe took it, read it. He did.  _Damned_  and all. “Well, that doesn’t mean I should just…”  
  
“We’ll hit Lacy’s next,” Dinah said, plucking it back out of Chloe’s hands. “I looked at their maternity section online this week. They have some adorable…”  
  
“I don’t want to…”  
  
“You need to,” Dinah cut in. “Even your precious pajamas won’t fit you soon.”  
  
Chloe just stared at her.  
  
“I know you hate acknowledging this is happening,” Dinah said firmly. “But you have to at some point.”  
  
Chloe looked away, wishing this was not that point, looked around her at the Metropolis Galleria. “I haven’t been here since last Christmas,” she turned her gaze back to Dinah, “shopping with Lois.”  
  
Dinah tilted her head. “You miss her, don’t you?”  
  
“Of course I do.” Chloe dropped her eyes to her tea. “She’s the only family I have, more like a sister than a cousin. I just wish things had been better before she left… or I did, I guess.”  
  
“Did you fight?”  
  
“No. We… we didn’t.” She almost wished they had. It would have been  _something,_  at least. “We just existed in the same space and…” Chloe took a deep breath. “I felt like we just didn’t understand each other anymore. Just little things that added up. Grant Gabriel, Stiletto…”  
  
“I don’t know most of what goes on around here, but that sounds a little like two other people…”  
  
“Neither did we,” Chloe cut in softly. “We never knew what was going on with each other. That’s the point. I felt like we gave lip service to being family and… and that was it. We just went through the motions.” Chloe shook her head. “Maybe I was partially to blame. I can’t blame her for her mistakes when I… well, I wasn’t honest with her.” Chloe stared at Dinah with a pleading gaze. “But how could I be? How could I tell her what was really going on?”  
  
Dinah sighed. “Well, if she was here right now, you’d have to talk about some things eventually.” Dinah glanced emphatically down at Chloe’s stomach.   
  
Chloe’s hand flew to it, as if hiding it from Lois. She wasn’t here. And Chloe wouldn’t be able to hide it from anyone after a while. “I guess I would  _have_  to tell her about that.”  
  
“And what would she say?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know how she’d feel. I mean, with who the father is. But I probably wouldn’t be able to tell her the complications, maybe just that it was a boy and she’d… she'd probably go out and buy little blue onesies,” she finished on a sob, surprised to find herself crying.  
  
Dinah’s chair scraped along the ground and Chloe felt her arms around her. “Is that something you want to do? Get little blue onesies?”  
  
“No… I… I don’t know. I mean, babies need onesies, but… I don’t even know if this is a baby to me. I feel like I’m nothing more than some kind of cocoon right now. Like I’m just this vessel for this… this  _thing_  to grow. And I hate it for using me. Is that horrible?”  
  
“Pre-partum depression,” Dinah whispered into her hair. “Sweetie, we will get you through this. I swear.”  
  
“So this is normal?” Chloe pulled away, swiping at her eyes. “I mean, you’re reading all the baby books.”  
  
“Well, they don’t say a lot about possible beast babies, but…” Dinah shook her head. “We will get you through this.” She tucked Chloe’s hair behind her ear. “We will also get you this sailor dress I saw with a red bow because it will look so fucking cute on you.”  
  
Chloe wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She did both.  
  
***********************  
  
“I’m only asking to meet with her,” Tess said, losing patience by now.  
  
“Why?” Oliver said, scoffing rather loudly and obviously. “And what makes you think I can make that happen?”  
  
_Lex, apparently._  And he hadn’t been wrong so far. “Are you trying to act as if you’ve never met her?”  
  
“I never said that,” Oliver drawled, leaning back with his coffee. “She did some tech work for Queen Industries a few times, but she kind of vanished recently.”  
  
_And you have no idea where she is?_  She should have offered him scotch. He’d never been known to say no to that, after all, even in the day time. Tess took a deep breath, trying a different tack. “I’m just glad you finally showed up to meet me.” She checked her watch. “And before dark. Does it ever look strange to you? This is what we call daylight, you know.”  
  
“Thanks. I was trying to find a word for it.” He leaned forward and placed his cup down. “Because it all looks the same from on top of the enormous pile of money I used to bail Luthorcorp out of its hole of research and testing and no products to be seen anywh…”  
  
“Oh, I know. We can’t all be as successful as Queen Industries with their extremely lucrative weapons division.” She smiled. “Why, I bet it could bail out two more companies while still funding all the charitable efforts that ease your conscience.”  
  
He stood. “You know, it’s great catching up, but…”  
  
“No. Stay.”  _Too far._  It was something she was learning with Lex and in general. It was very easy to go too far, snapping back to gain a little of her own back with these supposedly powerful men. “I was thinking of ordering in a little…”  
  
“Not really in the mood for lunch.”  
  
“Good, because it’s nearly dinner time,” she couldn’t help but say.  
  
“All the same…”  
  
“Seriously, Oliver, I just need a number, email…”  
  
“Yes, and I don’t have any contact information for Chloe Sullivan.”  
  
“No one does.” Tess laughed. “She seemed to disappear from every database around the time she disappeared with Davis Bloome. Incidentally, no one can find him, either.”  
  
Oliver shrugged. “Is that so? Maybe that’s your answer.”  
  
_No, it isn’t. And you know it._  He knew something more, had some involvement in this. More than that, Lex knew it. Lex might even know every way Oliver Queen tied into all this – not that he’d tell her… yet. It didn’t matter. She had her assignment and it wasn’t to put all the pieces together, mores the pity. She was just here to lay the foundation.  
  
“That wouldn’t quite explain that series of… earthquakes, I think the press later called them, rocking Metropolis.”  
  
Oliver shrugged again. “Whatever happened, the Luthorcorp Cares campaign cleaned up most of the damage. You’re welcome, by the way. I noticed you’ve been getting lots off accolades for that.”  
  
“Nice subject change,” she said with a smirk. “The point is I need to see Chloe Sullivan about that and other things.”  
  
“Ah. You want to grill the poor girl for information.” Oliver chuckled. “Here I thought you were finished chasing oddities and wanted to focus on business.”  
  
“I do. That’s why I wanted to offer her a job.” She smiled and moved back to sit behind her desk. “Everyone knows Lex fired her for reasons other than job performance and I wanted to right the wrong. I’ve already approached Clark.”  
  
“Clark Kent?” Oliver asked with what seemed like practiced disinterest.   
  
“Yes. That one.”  _The one you seem to exclusively pal around with when in town._  “He seems just as reluctant as you to pass on my message… or take the job I offered.”  
  
Oliver shrugged, yet again. “Maybe he doesn’t want it.”  
  
She’d give him one thing. He was a much more careful liar than his friend. “Yes, well, I seriously doubt the same could be said for Sullivan. Just pass my offer along if you just happen to see her. Would you? That’s all.” She smiled and picked up her phone. “I have some calls to make. You can show yourself out.”  
  
She kept her eyes on her phone until he moved out, then dialed Lex. “It’s done.”  
  
“She’s coming in?”  
  
“No. But I’ve got the message out. You could at least tell me why you seem to think Queen has such sway over the two of them.  
  
“Yes, I could,” he said before going silent.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“Not home,” was all he said.  
  
“You know, I’m getting a little sick of your vague non-answers,” she hissed. “I might as well be dealing with Clark.”   
  
“Just trust me.”  
  
“Why should I when you tell me nothing?”  
  
“Because I booked eight years on this to your one before you fucked up thinking you know better,” he said, sounding impatient. “I’ve seen what you do with knowledge and it’s nearly got you killed multiple times. You’ll know more when you’re ready.”  
  
“And when the hell is that?”  
  
“I’ll let you know,” he said before hanging up.  
  
“Bastard,” she hissed, slamming down the phone. She could still have freedom. She could still walk away from all of this. Hadn’t she been ready to before he showed up promising answers,  _finally_  answers? That was the main thing keeping her here, that carrot at the end of the stick, always swinging out of reach.   
  
She rubbed at her temples, wondering how much more of this she could take.  
  
**************************  
  
“This is way too much.” Chloe stared at the bags bulging from either of Dinah’s hands.  
  
“No, it’s not,” Dinah scoffed. “It just looks that way because Lacy’s bags everything with too much fancy tissue.” Dinah moved into the elevator sideways. “Hey, hit three for me, would you?”  
  
“Least I can do,” Chloe sighed. Chloe had tried to carry more than their purses, but Dinah had insisted on taking all the bags. She turned to the panel, then noticed another change. “What happened to four?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Chloe pointed at the key hole where the four button used to be. “Fourth floor? Oliver said something about storage, but last I knew, that was the landlord’s place. I’ve been wondering why you guys didn’t turn that into living quarters or…”  
  
“Oh, that… You know, it was damaged. Yeah. Too damaged. So key access only till… you know… Oliver gets it fixed up. So three?”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Chloe pressed it. “That’s a shame. I spied a nice roof garden up there last time I paid the rent.”  
  
Dinah laughed. “Well, one of these days. I wouldn’t go up there, myself. At all. Floor’s just… ripped up. Hey, so what about our little walk? Wasn’t it nice after being cooped up in here?”  
  
The door stopped short of closing as an arm appeared, then opened on Victor... with Clark right behind him.  
  
Victor laughed. “Think this one’s full.”  
  
“Oh, please! There’s plenty of room.” Dinah moved to the side. “We’ve been shopping.”   
  
“I can see that.” He moved in and gestured to Clark.  
  
Clark just stood there, hands in his pockets. “Uh… I could take the stairs.”  
  
“Why?” Dinah asked rather snappily. “Do we have girl cooties? Victor’s not afraid.”  
  
Victor chuckled. “Yes, I am. I just hide it well.”  
  
Clark finally got in and Chloe found herself moving to the corner. It was strange, hearing Clark’s voice after days of nothing, of barely even seeing him.  
  
Victor pressed two and turned to Clark. “So I’m thinking New York tonight. If I get a good bounce off the satellites, then I can map out everything from here and…”  
  
“New York?” Chloe found herself cutting in. “Are you guys expanding patrol?”  
  
“We’ve been trying it out.” Victor glanced back at her. “Gonna give Boyscout first crack at the big apple. I’ve been working on tapping into police scanners. I figure they need an assist.”  
  
“If they want it,” Clark added,  _not_  glancing back.  
  
“We’ve been over this,” Victor groaned. “Whether they want it or not, they need it, with their shitty response time.”  
  
“I didn’t know you guys were branching out.” Chloe tried to smile. “It’s good to see you’re getting into the team more. Good luck out there, Clark.”  
  
“Thanks,” he said quietly, his head  _almost_  turning to her. Then the doors opened.   
  
“That’s our stop.” Victor nodded at them as he moved out. “Ladies.”  
  
Chloe heard Dinah mutter something under her breath as the doors closed, then she reached forward to stop them. “You know, I’ll meet you up there,” she said, lumbering forward with the bags.   
  
“I can take the bags.”  
  
“No, it’s fine. Just, you know, something weird with my cell. Wanted Victor to take a look before he got too busy. This damn thing!” She yanked at one of the bags caught on the rail.  
  
Chloe grabbed it. “I think I can handle this one.”  
  
“Okay, yeah. I’ll see you up there,” she said absently, rushing off.   
  
Chloe frowned at the closing doors. It felt strange being here, in the middle of all the action, and not being a part of it. Some time ago, she’d been the one to set the control room for watchtower duties and Oliver had talked about putting her back on. But then…  
  
_God!_  Why couldn’t she even finish the thought?   
  
Dinah said she had to acknowledge what was happening, but that was the problem. What was happening? She wasn’t sure, even without the complications, that she could handle this. But when had that ever stopped her before? Most of this last decade had been spent somewhere between in way over her head and flailing to survive.  
  
She had to stop this, stop sleepwalking through each day. She also had to press a button or this elevator would never move. She switched the purses and bags to her free arm, thinking Dinah might have…  
  
“Dinah,” she breathed, opening the doors instead and moving out and toward the control room. Dinah would have a hell of time getting her phone fixed without the actual phone. She tried to extricate Dinah’s purse from hers, ready to call for her when…  
  
“Chloe!” she heard Dinah yell.  
  
She started, looking around her then realizing it was coming from the control room’s open door.  
  
“She's hurting and alone!”  
  
“She has plenty of company,” she heard Clark answer dully. “She has you and Bart…”  
  
“Yeah. And the damned Kardashians, but what she needs is you! She needs your attention right now more than some strangers in New York need it!”  
  
Chloe tried to step back, shaking her head. She did not want to hear this. She didn’t want Dinah to say it. Why couldn’t she move?  
  
“Dinah, you were one of the first ones on board with expanding,” she heard Victor say calmly. “So why don’t we table this until…”  
  
“This is not about the work, this is personal. Stay out of this, Robocop!”  
  
“That’s what I’m doing. That’s what you should be doing. Because this is personal. It’s between Clark and Chloe! Not us! We all agreed to give everyone time to…”  
  
“To stand still? Ignoring the situation, ignoring  _Chloe_  is the last thing she needs.”  
  
“I’m not ignoring her.” Clark’s low voice now, almost a whisper. “I’m giving her space. If she needs me, then she’ll…”  
  
“You are the number _one_ thing she needs right now, but if you think she’ll admit it, then…”   
  
“Hey! You’ve been in this, what, a year?” Victor now. “The rest of us…”  
  
“Maybe I’m new to your little boys’ club, but I see things you don’t. I see the way she struggles not to look at you, Clark, the way she finally gives in and then shuts down, like she’s resigned to it by now, like you’ll never see her as more than some fallen woman!”  
  
_He never said…_  
  
“I never said…”  
  
“You didn’t have to," Dinah spat. "And that’s just now! What about before? Did you know how long Oliver tried to get her on board? He offered to pay her well, but she’d rather work for a pat on the head from you. He told me it was more than a year! A year of her dropping everything for you! Hell, even her own job came second to you and...”  
  
“I never wanted that for her,” Clark cut in. “I always told her she did too much!”  
  
That was true. He always did. But the work was important and…  
  
“Then there’s the alien supercomputer that hijacked her brain and I’ve seen the wedding tapes and then there are her other dozen or so near-deaths… I mean, that’s just the stuff I know about! That’s just this year!”  
  
“You weren’t here…”  
  
“Neither were you! She even said it, talked about existing in the same space and… not understanding each other.”  
  
There was silence, then Clark's voice. “She said that?”  
  
“Well, she said that about Lois,” Dinah said in a rush, “but it might as well have been about you!”  
  
“Like I said, you weren’t here.”   
  
“No, I wasn’t. So I can form a damned better picture than all of you! Do you think she did all of this for the excitement? It was for you, Clark! Why do you think she went with Davis in the first place?”  
  
“To give him a chance at a life,” Clark said quietly. “She cared about him and…”  
  
"If you really think that, then you’re the dumbest man I…”  
  
“Then why do you think she’s pregnant right now?” Clark yelled.  
  
“If I were a girl on the run from everyone and everything I knew, facing constant danger, sex would be the last damned thing on my mind! Jesus, Clark! Do you think she sexed it up with him for fun? Her touch calmed the beast! Put two and two together! Even  _that_  was for you!”  
  
Chloe backed away for real this time. Because it was for him, but not like  _that_. Dinah made it sound like… like…   
  
She ran for the stairs, skipping the elevator, hands shaking as she opened the door.   
  
It was… it was for Clark, but it was just for all he could be for… for the world, really. She’d long since given up on the idea of the two of them as more than friends and partners and… Listing it off like that, it seemed a little over the top, but...   
  
“Damn it, open!” She pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t give. Then again, she had the wrong floor. She stared at the large four and took a deep breath, then kicked at it. Only place where she could get some air and it was on lockdown. “Stupid door! Stupid… Dinah!”  
  
She’d just talk to her, explain that she had it wrong and, incidentally, she didn’t need her to fight her battles for her! She didn’t even have any battles! She was fi…   
  
The knob turned. And not from her side.  
  
“What’s all that yelling in there?” a voice echoed in the stairwell from somewhere below.  
  
“Who’s in there?” she breathed.  
  
“Chloe?” Something zipped past her from behind and Bart appeared before her. “There you are!” Bart laughed and took the bag and the purses, then her arm, turning her around. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you. I got this roast going and I can’t even tell if it’s good anymore. Clark’s mom sent me the…”  
  
She looked back. “There’s someone in…”  
  
“Oh, that’s just Oliver, looking for something in storage.” He steered her down the stairs. “I wouldn’t go in there, myself, but he’s got cat’s feet. You know, it’s a wreck up there. I seriously fell right through the floor this one time. I’d show you the scar, but it’s in a delicate place. Anyway, Madame, please allow me to escort you to zee kitchen!”  
  
“I’d rather just…”  
  
“Oh, no! It’s dinner time! And I have strict orders to feed you something that is not pure junk. Apparently, I’ve been a bad influence. Now are you for or against paprika?”  
  
She sighed and shrugged, too drained to even argue. “I don’t really have an opinion.”  
  
“That’s good. Blank palette. That’s how I like em.” **  
**


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

****\  
**  
** _And would it have been worth it, after all,  
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,  
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me…_  
  
**Chapter Eight**

 

  
“So? How is it?” Bart prodded.  
  
“It’s good,” Chloe grunted.  
  
“No. I mean, is it tender enough? Did I put too much rosemary? Some people are like ‘ew, I hate rosemary,’ but I feel like, when it’s in a roast, it just blends in with other spices and…”  
  
“It’s very good,” Chloe sighed impatiently, then gripped his hand on the table next to her. It wasn’t Bart’s fault she was frustrated. “You’re turning into a gourmet.”  
  
“Well, when you eat as much as I do…” Bart chuckled. “But I promise, I’ll still sneak you some squeeze cheese and chocolate if you get the major food groups in you first. Doctor H. doesn’t have to know everything.”  
  
“Well, as long as there’s still some squeeze cheese in my life,” she said, tossing him a smile. No. She wasn’t angry with Bart. Dinah might be the closer target, with all she’d said to Clark. She had it wrong. Chloe had long since given up on the idea of being with Clark. That was silly, high school stuff. There were more important things to focus on. Then again, maybe that was all Dinah could gather from what she saw. She’d set Dinah straight tomorrow. Not tonight. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to explain her relationship with Clark to Dinah tonight. Sometimes, she could hardly explain it to herself. From the outside, it must look an awful lot like she had feelings for him. And she did. But they were just… friendly. It was about his future, even. They were damned near coworkers. It was nearly professional. Speaking of that…  
  
“So you guys are expanding patrols to other states.”  
  
Bart shrugged. “Well, we always were, with each of us playing in our home towns, but we’re branching out a little. Trying to widen the reach.”  
  
“I heard Clark’s in New York tonight,” trying to think of that and nothing else about Clark. Dinah was right about one thing. It hurt, the way he avoided her, but maybe that’s the way it had to be after all that happened. Maybe the professional side of their relationship was all that was left for them.  
  
“… so it’s really just a test run,” Bart was saying. “He’s usually on this tri-state area and I usually take Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and, of course, Keystone City. Hometown and all that.” He thumped his chest. “But things don’t get going there till after ten eastern, so I take the late night shift. But we’re going to try me out around Ohio towns next. It’s easier with me and Clark, being able to get somewhere fast, than with the others. But we all do what we can. Oliver takes a week in Star City when he has business. Dinah covers LA sometimes. But not tonight. I think Vic’s having her cover Metropolis while Clark’s in New York, so….”  
  
“It sounds like a lot of work,” she cut in, exhausted just hearing about it.  
  
“We definitely need more man-power. But Jones is thinking of pulling a few, even with his time on the force. It’s a shame we can’t use Vic in the field.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“We need him on Watchtower. He’s the only one of us with the tech know-how.”  
  
“Well, I could…”  
  
“I know. We were considering that when you… Well, things changed.” He leaned over and patted her stomach. “With the little monster here.”  
  
That wasn’t the first time he’d used that nickname and she was not a fan. Chloe batted his hand away. “That’s not funny.”  
  
“Sure it is. Speaking of him, I’d like to try some Mexican tomorrow. See how the little monster handles his spice.”  
  
Chloe pushed her plate away. “How can you joke about this?”  
  
“I don’t know, but I’m going to keep at it until I get what I want.”  
  
Chloe turned to him, annoyed.   
  
“Just a little smile," Bart said softly, "tiniest one’ll do.”  
  
“Would you settle for me not dumping a plate in your lap?”  
  
“I guess I’ll have to.” Bart chuckled. “You know, it’s not like I joke because I don’t know how serious all this is. It is mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly serious around here almost all the damned time. You have to laugh at it once in a while, Chloe,” he finished more seriously. “Because it’s not all bad. Even the little monster… not all bad.”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “Really? Because I can’t find one good thing about this…”  
  
“No. I mean that kid, whatever else is going on with it, is one-half Sullivan, so it can’t be all bad.”  
  
“Bart, I don’t want to talk about…”  
  
“Well, you have to. Or at least let me,” he cut in. “Now, the way I see it, we got Davis -- half beast, half man. But you, my lovely, are all Chloe. So this kid's only a quarter beast. It’s got a shot.”  
  
“So it'll only grow up to kill a quarter of the world?”  
  
“Or no one at all. You don’t know.” He covered her hand. “Hey, it's half Chloe Sullivan. And I think that's a part that's worth saving.”  
  
She gripped his hand back and tried to give him that smile he was looking for. She almost did. “I’d rather just talk about the patrols right now. I don’t see any reason why I can’t man the controls. It’s mostly a lot of sitting around.”  
  
Bart chuckled. “Yeah. You’re getting pretty good at that.”  
  
“Shut up.” She did smile, then, but it dropped when she saw Clark step in.  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Clark said grimly. “Watchtower duties might not be physical, but it’s high stress and not something you should be doing in your… condition,” he finished awkwardly.  
  
Chloe slipped her hand from Bart’s. “I don’t think that’s up to you.”  
  
“It’s just an opinion.”   
  
Bart pushed back his chair. “You’re back so soon?”  
  
“We had some trouble with the GPS signals. Vic’s going to tweak it and we’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, his eyes still on Chloe, even while talking to Bart. “But Victor wants you to gear up. He thinks Philadelphia might have some action tonight.”  
  
“I’m on it,” Bart said before disappearing.  
  
Chloe stared at Clark across the empty chair left upended in Bart’s wake. “So were you listening in on all that?”  
  
“I wasn’t,” he said, staring at the floor. “I just heard about Watchtower and I just think it’s a lot for you to handle when you have… other things to deal with.”  
  
She stood and gathered her plate and cup. “And I just think you can let me judge what I can and can’t handle,” she said as she moved into the kitchen. She felt him behind her as she put her dish in the industrial sized sink. “Why the sudden interest?”

"Sudden?"

"You haven't had much to say about me or to me lately."

  
“I just think…”  
  
“You just think…” She let out an annoyed huff of a laugh before she turned to him. “This just suddenly came upon you. This wouldn’t have anything to do with what Dinah said, would it?”  
  
He gave her a half-smile. “Now who’s listening in?”  
  
“I didn’t mean to hear it,” she said, flushing as she turned back to the sink, rinsing her leftovers down the disposal. “But she has it wrong. I don’t… I don’t have…”  _God!_  She had no idea how to finish that sentence. “I’m getting by just fine,” she said more evenly. “I don’t want you guilted into dealing with me when you don’t want to.”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” He reached over her shoulder and turned off the faucet before stepping back. “I’m just having trouble adjusting to this.  _This_  now,” he finished softly. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”  
  
“You think I do?” She whirled on him. “You think this was the plan? Dinah may have gotten some things wrong, but she was right about one thing…”  
  
“I know,” he said gently. “Because I  _was_  listening earlier. I just hated that I had to hear it instead of… say it.” He stared at the floor between them. “Nothing against Bart, but… I should be the one that does that.”  
  
“Does what?”  
  
He met her eyes. “I should be making you feel better. I should be here, should have been here this whole time. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Her anger melted, damn his big, sad eyes. “Clark…”  
  
“No. I once told you I’d be your own personal bomb squad and I... I don’t think of you as a… fallen woman or anything like that. I mean, it’s not… what I thought you would… I never thought you would…” He huffed and paced away. “I’m not saying this right. But I just don’t know what to do with this. But I know… Chloe, I do know staying away was wrong in every way. Because that was supposed to be me back there.” He gestured vaguely to the commissary. “I should be the one that makes you feel better at the end of a bad day. And I haven’t been doing that for you. With all you’ve given up for me…”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “Clark, I always told you -- everything I lost, it was worth it. How many times did you save the day? Just being a part of that is…”  
  
“I didn’t save it alone.” He moved closer and held her gaze. “Never. You were always there. And I didn’t know how much I needed you there till you left. It was a little harder without you, a little colder.” He stepped closer and she couldn’t help thinking of all those other things Dinah said, the ones she was determined to set her straight on.  
  
She turned back to the sink, decided she really needed to wash her dish right this second. “Well, I guess my research skills are pretty handy, even if I do say it myself.”  
  
“I’m not talking about you researching. It’s how we would talk. After every bad day, there you were. Even when you lost everything, you always propped me up first, told me it would be okay.”  
  
She started to put her dishes in the drain board, then decided she’d just dry them, needing something, anything, to do. “Well, you know. That’s what friends do."  
  
“That’s more than friendship. I don’t know what to call it, but friendship isn’t enough. At the end of every messed up day, I had you to help me feel good about what I did, even when I didn't want to. I had you to tell me I was doing my best, that I would be something great someday, that I'd save us all. And I needed that then and I know you need it now.”  
  
“Well, my day wasn’t so bad,” she said lightly, trying her damnedest not to cry into the dish towel. “I mean, I’m mostly okay. Did some shopping.”  
  
“You got your hair done, too,” he said softly.  
  
Her hand went absently to it. “Well, that was mostly Dinah. She made me get my nails done and some clothes for when… Well, you know.”  
  
“For the…” he swallowed so hard she could _hear_ it, “the baby?”  
  
She wiped her own tears off the plate. “No, just me,” she said as evenly as she could, “for later. Then we went for coffee… Well, I had tea. That’s one the hardest things about this. Barely any coffee and you know how I…”  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“I think that plate’s dry by now.” He reached around her and set it aside.  
  
And she turned into him, burrowing into his chest as she sobbed.  
  
“I know,” he said, though she’d said nothing. His hand moved up and down her back.  
  
“What am I going to do?” she moaned.  
  
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll get through it.”  
  
“I don’t want to just get through it.” She drew back, sniffling. “I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking through every day, just trying to get through it. I need to think about it, but I can’t think about it, so maybe I… I just need something to do because I can’t stop and think about it because every time I think about it, I just want to scream.”  
  
“Okay, then.” He gripped her arms, thumbs rubbing lightly. “Do you want me to take you somewhere you can scream all you want? The Grand Canyon or…”  
  
“No,” she whimpered. “I mean, Dinah’s been reading these books and screaming can upset the baby and…” She broke off, sobbing. “And I just called it a baby. And ‘it’. See, that’s the problem. I feel guilty if I think it’s an ‘it’ and like I’m being naïve if I call him a baby and… I don’t know how to feel, Clark. And I feel like I could deal with this if I just knew what I was dealing with and… I can’t even think straight. I’m talking in circles and…”  
  
He pulled her in again. “Chloe, you don’t have to have everything figured out right this second.”  
  
“I’m not used to this, Clark. I’m used to good and bad. Black and white. One or the other. But this whole year’s been nothing but gray and now…  _now_  I’ve got the capper of an alien baby…”   
  
“It’s only a possible alien…”  
  
“With an absentee father,” she finished miserably.  
  
Clark drew back. “Would that help? Finding Davis? Is that what you want to…”  
  
“No. I don’t know. Maybe…” She shook her head. “No. I’m not sure having him around would do anything but confuse things more.”  
  
Something that looked like relief flashed briefly in his eyes as he pulled her back in. “Just tell me what you need. I’ll do it.”  
  
She leaned her forehead against his chest and let out a watery laugh. “Just like a man. You’re probably looking for some fix-all so I stop blubbering all over you.”  
  
“You can cry all you want,” he cut in softly. “This jacket’s stain-resistant.”  
  
She laughed again, through her tears. “No wonder you love your stupid jackets so much.”  
  
“Well, they can take a beating.” He took a deep breath.  
  
She took it with him, drying up a little. Because this was nice. This was something she’d gotten used to over the years and had really missed these last weeks and –  _God!_  – for so long before this. Clark folded around her, big hands splayed on her back, chin resting on top of her head. It was and would always remain the safest she’d ever felt. She took another deep breath and he joined her, breath stirring her hair.  
  
“Feel any better?” he whispered.  
  
_Yes._  “I don’t know,” she said instead, not wanting him to let her go just yet. In the midst of all the confusion, this was something familiar and warm and safe… until it wasn’t. Familiar, that is.   
  
His head moved just a fraction and she felt his lips barely brush her hairline. It didn’t feel altogether safe, either, though it did feel warm. She felt warm all over. She was trying to decide if it was an accident when he was suddenly across the kitchen.  
  
“Always something,” he breathed, leaning against the stainless steel island.  
  
“Wha…”  
  
“Oliver’s coming,” he said more clearly, then looked around the kitchen almost frantically until his eyes lit on Bart’s dinner, still sitting in pots and pans on the island. “You know, I should take care of this, so it doesn’t…”  
  
“There you are,” Oliver said loudly, sailing in. “Finally.”  
  
“We weren’t hiding or anything,” Clark said quickly, opening and closing cabinet doors. “Does Bart have any tin foil in here? I need to put this away.”  
  
“Hey, that looks good,” Oliver moved up to the counter, rubbing his hands. “I can put it away in five minutes or less. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you two and, apparently, I’m not the only one.”  
  
Chloe shook herself and handed Oliver her clean and overly dry plate. “Meaning?”  
  
Oliver plucked a new potato out of a bowl. “I’ll give you a hint. She’s red-headed, but morally gray. She’s…”  
  
“Tess, I know,” Clark sneered, closing a drawer and leaning against it. “She showed up at the farm. And the answer is no.”  
  
Ollie chuckled. “Well, I figured. Just had to check.”  
  
Chloe looked between them. “No to what?”  
  
“The Planet. You were right to walk away from it. I think we both had enough of working for the enemy,” Clark said, meeting her eyes again.  
  
Chloe held up a hand, finally shaky off the hazy moment. “Wait a minute. Did Tess offer you a job again?”  
  
“Not just Clark,” Oliver said, making himself a heaping plate.   
  
Chloe sighed. “Well, I’ve been here before. You can tell her I still don’t hack for…”  
  
“Not that,” Oliver cut in. “She seems to want to right the horrible injustice of Lex firing you from The Planet. She really piled it on.”  
  
Chloe gripped the sink behind her, trying to figure out how to react to that. Like everything else in her life right now, the prevailing feeling was confusion. “How does she even know I’m around?” she said, settling on that question first.  
  
“How does Tess ever know anything?” Oliver said as he chewed.   
  
“Whatever she knows, it’s too much, like always,” Clark grunted.  
  
“Anyway, she said she wants a meeting with you. I said I’d pass it along.” Oliver shrugged. “Done! Now we just ignore and hope she lets it go.”  
  
“No.” Chloe loosened her grip on the sink, standing straighter. “I want to meet with her.”  
  
Oliver dropped his fork.  
  
Clark stepped forward. “Chloe…”  
  
“If Tess is pushing to find me, she’ll end up doing it. I don’t think we want her dropping in here.” She shook her head. “More than that, I can’t… I can’t stay holed up here forever.”  
  
Clark stared at her. “Are you seriously considering working for Tess?”  
  
“No. I’ve seriously decided to _meet_ with her. The rest… I don’t know.”  
  
“The answer is no,” Clark said levelly.  
  
“ _Your_ answer may be no. But I think I should see what she wants before…”  
  
“What she _claims_ to want,” Clark broke in. “You know what she’s like.”  
  
“Which is exactly why I need to get this over with,” she said, irritated now. “It’s not like she’ll give up. If I meet with her, I can at least get an idea of…”  
  
“You know what?” Clark threw up his hands. “That’s up to you. I’m done. I don’t want any more games with Tess.”  
  
Chloe lifted her chin. “It’s just a meeting, Clark.”  
  
“I’m serious, Chloe. If you want to do this, I’m not supporting it.”  
  
*********************  
  
“I mean it,” Clark said from behind her at the coffee cart. “I don’t want to hear it when Tess starts spying on your every move. You’re on your own.”  
  
“You keep saying that.” Chloe took her change and her stupid tea and turned to him. “But here you are.”  
  
“I’m just here to… make sure you don’t apply.”  
  
“Hey, I’m not just applying,” she said as she marched through the lobby. And up the stairs, not down, which was strange. Her clothes felt strange, too, but not in a bad way. As much as she liked a nice, sleek, pencil skirt, there was something to be said for one with an elastic waist. “I’ve been headhunted and am granting an interview, which kind of gives me an advantage.”  
  
He was hot on her heels. “So you  _are_  thinking of…”  
  
“I’m only thinking of it. I haven’t decided one way or the other,” she said wearily.  
  
“Last night, you said it was only the meeting and…”  
  
“Last night was last night.” There was something about this morning that changed her. She felt eager to get up and barely even annoyed to find Dinah hovering over her when she opened her eyes. Dinah had been so excited to dress her in business casual that Chloe didn’t have the heart to chew her out for her little yelling session with Clark the night before. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t bother. As much as Dinah had things wrong, it had done some good. Here Clark was, protecting her. It felt so nice, she didn’t have the heart to tell Clark she didn’t need protecting. “There’s an offer on the table and I’m going to consider it from all possible angles. But the income wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
“There’s plenty of money in your bank account.”  
  
She turned to him on the landing. “Too much money and none of it mine.”  
  
“It is yours.”  
  
“It’s Oliver’s and I’m not accepting it.”  
  
“It’s… hazard pay from… from your services rendered with…”  
  
“Hazard pay. My god, do all of you have this rehearsed?” She moved to the elevators. “I don’t care what you call it, I’m not accepting it. I’m going to earn my way.”  
  
He moved in after her. “Well, consider it an advance on watchtower shifts,” he hissed, although the elevator was empty.  
  
“I thought you didn’t want me to pull watchtower duty.” She pressed the nine button.   
  
“Better than this,” he grumbled.  
  
“Besides, I’m not accepting money for watchtower shifts. I’m considering my room and board pay enough… while I’m there.”  
  
“While you’re…”  
  
“Besides, do you get paid, Clark?”  
  
“You know, Bart gets living expenses for out of town work and Victor gets compensated for time upgrading the tech and…”  
  
“Do you get paid?” she repeated.   
  
“I have a source of income. I have a farm and…”  
  
“So why are you here in a suit?”  
  
“Because you insisted on taking this interview,” he said tightly.   
  
“Nice tie, by the way.”  
  
“Oliver lent me…” He stopped on a huff. “And what do you mean, while you’re there?”  
  
“I’m not staying in that cell forever.”  
  
“It’s not a cell,” he mumbled. “It’s a spacious living quarters. Everyone _else_ makes do when they’re in town.”  
  
“Everyone _else_ has another home to go to. It’s a room with a half-bath. My college dorm was bigger,” she said as the doors slid open.  
  
“If you need more space, headquarters can be…”  
  
“Would you keep your voice down?” she hissed as they moved out. “I don’t think Tess needs to know any more about our business.”  
  
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.  
  
She ignored him and moved to the reception desk. “Chloe Sullivan to see Tess Mercer.”  
  
“Yes, she’s been expecting you. She just stepped out for a minute.” The brunette swiveled her chair to Clark. “And you are…”  
  
“Clark Kent,” he muttered.   
  
“She’s not expecting him,” Chloe sighed. “But I’m pretty sure she’d like to see him, too.”  
  
“You’d be right,” a measured voice said from behind them.  
  
Chloe turned to see Tess, all cool smiles and sleek lines, as always, moving out of the bullpen.  
  
“Just not at the moment.” Tess moved past them, heels clacking on the polished floor. “But I’ll see if I can squeeze him in. Karen, could you get Mr. Kent a coffee while he waits?”  
  
Chloe glanced at Clark. He didn’t like that dismissal, though it was hard to tell as he’d had the same mutinous look on his face all morning.  
  
“Miss Sullivan?” Tess was holding open her office door. “After you.”  
  
Chloe looked back to Clark, trying to give him a bracing smile. She wasn’t sure what the expression on her face actually was.   
  
It didn’t help that Tess laughed when she took her seat behind the desk. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”  
  
“I’m not so sure I won’t be,” she said honestly, setting her tea on the side table and tightly folding her shaking hands in her lap as she took a seat. And that wasn’t just breakfast talking. Now that she was deep in it, it was very discomfiting, being in this building again. It held the best and worst moments of her life. Even this very office held memories both terrible and wonderful. From Lex yelling about his right to spy on her to Pauline Kahn shaking her hand and welcoming her to her dream job.   
  
When Lex took it over, it had turned into a nightmare. What the hell was she doing here with his number one lackey?  
  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tess said.  
  
“I doubt that.”  
  
“I’m not Lex, you know.”  
  
“Well, apart from the hair, it’s hard to tell you two apart. Such a creative definition of ethics.”  
  
Tess raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you came at all, if that’s what you think.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure what to think, which is exactly why I came. The last I knew of you, you’d sent an assortment of powered individuals after me.”  
  
“So we’re going to be honest. How refreshing.” Tess smiled and leaned forward. “If you know that, then you also know I didn’t send them after _you,_ not specifically.”  
  
“Still, I don’t think you cared much if I got caught in the crossfire.”  
  
“There were bigger things at work. You know that as well as I do. I was doing what I thought I had to do to contain a threat with the limited resources I had.”  
  
“That’s not how I saw it. You were manipulating an already volatile situation that...”  
  
“And I paid for that,” Tess cut in hotly. “That assortment of powered individuals, as you call them, nearly killed me.”   
  
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”  
  
Tess shook her head. “No more than I would for _you_. Take a look at this last year, Chloe, and tell me you didn’t fuck up, too, running off with the cornfield killer…”  
  
“I was trying to keep people safe.”  
  
“And what the hell was I doing? I was thrown into this with no preparation and I was floundering to figure out what the hell to do with this world of crystals and monsters and our mysterious friend out there.”   
  
Chloe heard a muffled thump from beyond the door and knew that Clark was listening to every word. “Calm down,” she said under her breath, hoping he’d hear it.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud,” Chloe said evenly, “wondering why you want us here as I’m positive you know more than you should.”  
  
“More than I wanted to,” Tess said. “Trust me on that.”  
  
She didn’t. “Then maybe you know that Clark isn’t a threat to the world. He isn’t something for you to control and toy with.”  
  
“I’m not toying with anyone. I know all I need to about Clark. I offered him his job back and he refused. The fact that he showed up here has nothing to do with me. The offer stands for him and for you. Take it or leave it.” She stood. “I didn’t bring you here to argue about the past. I want to talk about the future.”  
  
“You think I have a future with a Luthorcorp-owned paper?”  
  
“Don’t forget Queen Industries,” Tess cut in, moving to her sideboard. “They’re on the letterhead, too. Coffee?”  
  
“Thanks. I have tea already.”  
  
Tess raised an eyebrow. “Well, that doesn’t match up with your files.”  
  
Chloe pasted on a bland smile. “Considering your files on me were put together by Lex, most of it won’t match up with the truth.”  
  
Tess laughed as she poured. “You know, we never got to have a long talk, you and me. You’re quick. I kind of like it.” She turned and met Chloe’s eyes. “All the more reason to have you on staff.”  
  
Chloe's smile tightened. “Are you really going to pretend that’s your reason?”  
  
Tess sighed and sipped at her coffee, perching on the edge of her desk. “Regardless of how you feel about what I did in the past, these last months speak for themselves. I don’t want to continue Luthorcorp’s tradition of tossing money into the black hole of research with nothing to sell. Others can play with the mysteries of the universe. I’m more interested in turning a profit these days. I’m taking this paper seriously. Circulation is up, agenda is down. ”  
  
The funny thing was, everything Tess said sounded like the truth, yet there was something hollow about it, as if she’d left a few blanks. “If the paper’s doing so well, then I wonder why you need me.”  
  
“I’m not saying I do. But it’s not doing as well as it could. The Inquisitor and The Star seem to take turns outselling us every week. I need staff and I’d much rather they have experience. Despite your hiatus, you have it in spades and Clark…” She shrugged. “Well, he makes up for it in… special talents.”  
  
“Talents which he doesn’t abuse for his own gain,” Chloe said with narrowed eyes.  
  
“Yes. He’s a goddamned saint. I know that by now.” Tess set down her coffee impatiently. “Jesus! You were fired on shaky grounds, from what I know, and I’m giving you a chance to prove that. And you can tell Clark that it’s not often I give a second chance to employees who just stop showing up to work,” she said loudly toward the door before lowering her voice. “But I know there have been extenuating circumstances for the both of you. I’m offering you a job, plain and simple. If you don’t want it, then stop wasting my time.” She moved to the door.  
  
“I do want it,” Chloe found herself saying, standing and turning to her.  
  
“Fine, then! And you can tell Clark…” Tess trailed off, meeting her eyes. “You do?”  
  
Chloe held her stare. “This was a great paper once.” And she’d left it in Lex’s grip. She should have fought for it and she didn’t. Would she be fighting _Tess_ now? Maybe. As much as she found truth in Tess’ words, there were still those troubling blank spaces. Where better to fill them in than here? “I think it can be great again,” Chloe finished, leaving a few blank spaces of her very own, but that’s just how it had to be with Mercer.  
  
Tess only nodded and moved away from the door. “You start tomorrow. Report to Karen at eight and she can show you around.”  
  
“I think I know my way around.”  
  
“Not on this floor,” Tess said, taking a seat behind her desk. “Send Kent in for me, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still checking off my patron’s requests…
> 
> Chloe and Clark, working together at The Planet? Check!


	9. Chapter 9

_In the room the women come and go…_

 

  **Chapter Nine**

 

They got the jobs. The celebration was dubious.   
  
Chloe congratulated herself by losing her breakfast in the ladies room and Clark rang it in by grumbling all the way back to headquarters. But she knew he’d take the job the minute she said "yes," as much as he protested. In fact, she heard his abrupt “I’ll take it” between the opening and closing of Tess’s door as she rushed past him.  
  
She found him pacing outside the ladies room by the time she washed up and popped several mints into her mouth.  
  
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he kept muttering.  
  
Oliver seemed inclined to agree at first.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong, Chloe,” Oliver sighed at dinner, “I’m not saying this can’t be a good thing. Friends close, enemies closer and all that, but…”  
  
“Tess might be thinking the same thing,” Clark pointed out. “For us to be working for Luthorcorp again…”  
  
“Don’t forget Queen Industries,” Chloe had to add, much as Tess had. “Oliver’s in business with Tess already.”  
  
Clark shook his head. “Which I still don’t think…”  
  
“Hey, she’s not wrong,” Oliver pointed out. “It’s not a bad thing to have an inside track. Technically, I own the majority of Luthorcorp shares. So you two are actually working for me. What am I paying you, by the way?”  
  
“I don’t even know yet,” Chloe said. This wasn’t the basement this time around. What did the ninth floor bullpen make?  
  
“Well, I’ll call Tess, see if I can get you guys a sweeter deal, though not tonight.” Oliver patted the suitcase at his side.   
  
Everyone but John was here tonight, though he’d be stopping by when he got off work. They’d had a small meeting, just to figure out the division of patrols with Oliver and Dinah taking west coast duty for a week. Chloe noticed they avoided talking about her situation, though Emil made a few mentions of everything progressing normally… for now. Still, they all seemed less on-edge. Hell, Chloe was feeling more relaxed, too.   
  
Apart from the nausea, she felt almost normal. Maybe it was the fact that people had stopped treating her like a bomb about to go off. Victor had even talked about acquainting her with the new system this week so she could take shifts on weekends. Maybe it was also that she’d be starting a nine-to-five tomorrow like any normal person. Even most unwed mothers had to work.   
  
She shook off the thought as, apart from the nausea and the fact that all her clothes had “room to grow” and the bladder issues, she didn’t feel particularly pregnant. Besides that, Clark was right. She didn’t have to figure out how to feel right now. At the moment, she had a new – or old – job to start and some nice new clothes to go with it. So she’d let herself focus on the good right now.  
  
“Maybe tomorrow after I’ve settled in Star City,” Oliver went on. “Speaking of that, is that damned woman ready?”  
  
“Is that my nickname now?” Dinah rolled up with her suitcase. “I’m not into it. Besides, it’s your jet. It’s not like we have to go through the lines.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Oliver grunted.  
  
Dinah pulled up a chair. “So… Chloe at The Planet again. Really brings me back. Remember how we met?”  
  
Chloe laughed. “When you lobbed several knives at me? How could I ever forget?”  
  
Dinah put a hand to her heart. “Aw! You do remember.”  
  
Chloe giggled.  
  
Clark scowled at her. “Stop it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Being so… happy about this.”  
  
She sat up straighter and schooled her face into blandness. She hadn’t realized she’d been coming off as happy. She wasn’t happy, per se. She was just… focused and… maybe just a _little_ bit happy to have a press pass again. “A press credential’s a good resource,” Chloe said to Clark, getting back to the subject at hand. “And I intend to use it well.”  
  
“How exactly?”  
  
“I’m still thinking on that.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’ll be nice to have a legitimate paycheck. Certainly makes tax time easier. Last year was a nightmare between Isis and you.” She turned to Oliver.   
  
Oliver scoffed loudly. “Hey, I let you use my accountant and she let you deduct coffee and an mp3 player that I’m positive was not work-rela…”  
  
“Speaking of paychecks,” Clark broke in. “Chloe wants to get her own place.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Oliver turned to her. “What neighborhood? If you’re thinking mid-town, I had a good rental agent a few years back.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Clark said pointedly.  
  
“Why not?” Oliver shrugged. “Everyone needs their own space.”   
  
Chloe gestured to Oliver. “Thank you. That’s what I said.”  
  
“It’s probably for the best,” Oliver said, staring hard at Clark. “Or do you want to keep her locked away here?”  
  
Clark stared back. “This isn’t about locking anyone away.”  
  
“Why don’t we just chain the poor girl up in storage?” Oliver said, smiling tightly. “Hey, I like this place enough, but Chloe doesn’t need to spend every waking minute here. Agreed?”  
  
Clark shook his head. “And what if there’s a problem?”  
  
“You know, I did make it through my entire life up till now not living in a secretive headquarters,” Chloe said, staring between them. It was almost like there was a whole other conversation happening underneath.  
  
Oliver laughed and the tension eased slightly. “Of course! Years stuck in Smallville. If that isn’t pure isolation, then I don’t know what…”  
  
“Things are different now,” Clark cut in. “Chloe, you have a little something extra going on.” He glanced at her stomach. “What if there’s a medical emergency. You can’t just go to any hospital with it.”  
  
“Then I have my own personal ambulatory squad. I can call you or Bart to take me to Emil.” She gestured to the door as Jones walked in. “John, even. Hi, John.”  
  
“John’s here?” Bart rushed away from Emil and Victor and parked himself next to Dinah. “Alright, Tweety! The jig is up.” He pulled her over to Jones. “You gotta give me a read on her. I know she’s cheating and…”  
  
“This again? I am not,” Dinah gasped.  
  
“There’s no way you have a grenade launcher on level four. That kind of weaponry isn’t available until level six.” He gestured to John. “You cheated and I’m about to get proof.”  
  
“About to get proof I didn’t! I unlocked it by rescuing the family on three, which you never bother to do because you’re too busy exploding zombie heads!”  
  
Chloe leaned in to Clark. “Video game?”  
  
“What else?” he sighed.   
  
Oliver stood. “Guys, the man just got off work. Give him a minute before you force parlor tricks on him.”  
  
“Maybe more than a minute,” Jones said, taking a seat, shaking his head.   
  
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “Tough day on the force?  
  
“Not particularly,” Jones said, rubbing between his eyebrows. “Just a sudden headache.”  
  
Chloe reached across the table to take his hand. “Is it the machinery again?”  
  
“What about the machinery?” Clark asked, staring at Jones.  
  
Chloe turned to Clark. “John said it was emitting some kind of frequency that was bothering him a few weeks ago.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Oliver wanted to know.  
  
Jones shrugged. “Because it wasn’t that bad. More distracting than anything else.”  
  
Oliver frowned. “Well, that’s all the way up on the third floor. We’re not near any machinery now. Not unless you count a dishwasher. Is the microwave…”  
  
“No. Microwaves never bother me,” Jones cut in. “I’d have a hard time feeding myself on my schedule if they did. I’m fine, really.”  
  
“You guys are forgetting,” Bart hissed. “We’ve got a pretty sophisticated bit of technology right here.” He gestured to Victor, who was still talking to Emil at a corner table, with their ongoing quest to make improvements on his parts. “Hey Victor!”  
  
Victor turned with an annoyed look.  
  
“Stop emitting frequencies, okay?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dude, you’re giving the Martian a headache.”  
  
“By doing what?”  
  
Bart threw up his hands. “I don’t know. But quit it.”   
  
“Leave Victor alone. He’s busy you and we don’t know it’s him.” Oliver shrugged and pulled at John’s arm. “Come on. I’ll see if there’s anything in the medical bay that’s Martian-safe, then we can check out the control room, see if we can pinpoint the source.”  
  
“You guys better not touch my game. I didn’t save,” Bart yelled after them.  
  
“Not my problem,” Oliver called back on a laugh. “John, have you ever experienced the zombie apocalypse?”  
  
“Son of a…” And Bart was gone.  
  
Dinah rolled her eyes and followed. “Oliver, weren’t you the one just whining that we have to go?”  
  
Chloe shrugged and stood. “Guess that’s it for dinner. I’ve got homework, anyway.” She reached for her plate.  
  
But Clark collected it first, along with his. “What kind of homework?”  
  
She shrugged and took their glasses. “I’d better read up on what The Planet’s been up to all summer.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. That’s probably good.”  
  
“Maybe the housing ads, too, while I…”  
  
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he burst out, following her into the kitchen.  
  
She turned on him. “Out with it. Why not?”  
  
“Well… You’ll be all alone.”  
  
“That’s kind of the point, Clark. Living here, with everyone coming in and out…”  
  
“Okay, fine,” he sighed. “But what about the farm?”  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“It’s a big house and pretty much no one’s in and out and I won’t make you do any chores and my mother’s room’s empty,” he said in rush, putting his dishes and hers in the sink and turning the water on. “I mean, if you want space, that’s where you get it. I wouldn’t even have to be in your room… space at all,” he said, scrubbing away. “We can even…”  
  
“It’s a two-hour drive from the city, Clark!”  
  
“So? I can give you a lift into town any time you need it.”  
  
“That’ll help my morning sickness,” she said with a laugh. “Clark, if I’m going to work in the city, I should live in the city.”  
  
“All the sudden? You lived in Smallville for three years while you were still working at The Planet and Isis! Was it so bad?”  
  
“Yes! The constant rushing back and forth and… I don’t know. I’ve always been a city girl at heart. I barely know why I kept up residence in Smallville when most of my life and work was here. Maybe because the rent was cheaper or maybe…” She set the glasses in the sink, then quickly drew her hand with a yelp.  
  
“What? Did you cut yourself?” Clark grabbed her hand.  
  
“No. But I’m not sure about burns. That water’s boiling hot.”  
  
“Should have warned you.” He groaned and inspected her hand, turning it over. “That’s kind of how I do dishes. It’s faster.”  
  
“And deadlier.”   
  
He turned on the cold and put her hand under. “That’s why I can do the dishes when you move in.”  
  
“I just told you…”  
  
“Chloe, if Smallville was so hard, then why didn’t you leave before?” he demanded, but gently.  
  
“Because it was too hard to do,” she said without thinking, closing her eyes as the cold water numbed her skin. “I couldn’t be another person that…” She stopped herself, pulling her hand out of both his hand and the water. “You know, it really doesn’t hurt that much.”  
  
“Another person that what?” He turned off the water and leaned on the sink, waiting.  
  
She took a deep breath. “Clark, it’s long past the time anything was keeping me in Smallville. My father moved away when I went to college and staying with Lois at The Talon was supposed to be temporary and then… I just couldn’t leave. Lois would talk about us getting a bigger place in the city and I always talked up the cheap rent and how it offset the price of gas, but that really wasn’t it.” She met his eyes. “The only thing keeping me there was you.”   
  
“Me?” Clark stared at her.  
  
“Well… working with you and… You know, it just made things…”  
  
“But it’s not like I couldn’t be anywhere else in seconds if you…”  
  
“Yes, but how could I hunt you down when you holed up in your loft, moping on that ratty, red couch so easily?” she said quickly.  
  
“Yeah.” He nodded. “That makes sense,” he mumbled, staring down, finger sliding back and forth along the sink between them. “I’m trying not to do that anymore,” he finally said. “I mean, it doesn’t accomplish much.”  
  
“Saints be praised,” she said with a smile. “How are you getting your kicks now?”  
  
“Well, all these months without you to talk me out of it…” He shrugged. “Kind of takes the fun out of the whole thing.”  
  
She dropped her smile. “I’m sorry. God, Clark…” She tilted her head to catch his eyes. “Maybe that’s another reason I couldn’t leave Smallville. I didn’t want to be another person that left you. Pete, your parents, Lana…”  
  
“But you did leave me,” he said softly.   
  
“Only because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe,” she said quickly. “Clark, if I knew how things would…”  
  
“Let’s not do that,” he broke in. “Like I said before, we both took a few wrong turns this year. We don’t need to rehash or relive it.”  
  
“Well, you said that before…” She trailed off, a hand moving to her stomach. “Once your little radio silence kicked in, I figured you might want a few mea culpas out of me.”  
  
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head and glanced down at her stomach as well. “That shouldn’t have changed anything. And what you did… I mean, you’re free to do what you want with who… I mean, it’s your business if… God!” He ran a hand roughly through his hair and stepped back before stepping toward her again. “I’m just saying – really badly – that you don’t owe me anything. That’s all. I’m sorry I brought it up. Nothing’s changed and…”  
  
“Clark, everything’s changed,” she said tiredly.  
  
“Well, not us,” he said firmly. “Not if I can help it. You’re my best friend."  
  
She met his eyes, gave him a small smile. "And you're mine."  
  
He sighed. "And I'm so sorry I haven’t been acting like it, but…”  
  
“Now who’s rehashing?” She rolled her eyes.  
  
He gave her a smile, that sheepish sort of half-smile that almost always meant the end of all possible arguments. “So how do you hunt me down now? When I mope and all that?”  
  
She chuckled. “I thought you were trying not to mope.”  
  
“Well, it might come upon me all suddenly.”  
  
She laughed harder. “So you’ll just have to start answering your phone. I mean, now that you’re suddenly so concerned.”  
  
“I’m not just suddenly…”  
  
“No. It’s great. It’s really going to come in handy.” She grinned widely. “In fact, think of the vague and cryptic voice mails and texts I can dream up.”  
  
“I always…”  
  
“And you’ll just have to show up, no choice,” she went on, poking him in the chest. “ _Save me,_  she texts. And you won’t know if it’s from Bart’s monologues or Tess Mercer locking me in a…”   
  
He grasped her hand. “Don’t even joke about that. I still don’t trust her.”  
  
“Neither do I,” she said, sobering.   
  
“We don’t know what she’s after.”  
  
“Because we don’t know enough about her. I think it’s time we changed that.” She stared at his hand, still gripping hers.   
  
He didn’t let go, just stared at her. “Is that why you took the job? To investigate Tess?”  
  
“It’s part of it.”  
  
“That won’t be easy, considering she’ll be watching us.”  
  
“I think we can find ways around that. I’m still in the planning stages, but I have a few ideas.”  
  
“God help us all,” he sighed, rubbing lightly at the back of her hand. “Chloe, why now?”  
  
“Well, it’s about time,” she said blearily, sort of hypnotized by the way his hand sort of swallowed hers up. “Um… We were always too busy countering her to really look into her past, but…”  
  
“Why move here now?”  
  
“It’s about time for that, too,” she said, snapping out of it and tugging her hand away   
  
“But it could be so much easier. Hell, we can turn my dining room into four walls of weird if you want. And, if you think Bart can cook, well…" Clark sighed. "Okay. Yeah. He can. He’s pretty good at it. But I helped my mom all the time and I picked up a few…”  
  
“Clark!” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, thinking that might shut him up. It did. It also left him looking completely dumbstruck. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve made my decision. I’m too tired to argue anymore and we both have a big day tomorrow.” She skirted him and moved to the door, then stilled. Did she seriously just kiss Clark? She shook her head. It was only on the cheek. “Goodnight,” she called out, a hand on the swinging door.  
  
“Uh-huh.”   
  
She waited. She wasn’t sure for what, maybe some concession to their argument, maybe just an answering “good night.” But that seemed to be all she was getting out of him. When she glanced back, he was just staring at the cabinets.  
  
She didn’t sleep. She tossed and turned – at least as much as she could, considering Emil had ruled out her sleeping on her stomach for the next five to six months.  
  
Had it been too weird? It had to have been too weird. Hugging was one thing. Hugs… she could hardly count them. Kissing wasn’t, generally speaking, something they did. By her count, the last time her lips had been on any part of Clark was over three years ago. And that wasn’t on the cheek. That also wasn’t something she’d done _since_ , not even when the end of the world was at hand. By that point, it seemed sad and desperate to keep laying some kind of annual kiss on him.   
  
Not that she wanted to. She didn’t want to now. She was just… maybe she was hormonal, she decided as she stopped herself from turning onto her stomach again. Then again, it was just a stupid kiss on the cheek…  
  
“For God’s sake,” she groaned, tossing off the covers and quickly making her way to the tiny bathroom. Her bladder was giving her less and less warning this week. The idea of holding it in would soon be something of bygone days. And that was exactly why she couldn’t keep obsessing over a kiss on the cheek.  
  
She was pregnant and about to start a new old job. These things were obviously more important than some ridiculous, tiny little kiss on the cheek… which was probably Clark’s fault with all the touching and grabbing he’d been doing. It made things confusing. She’d explain it away tomorrow and…  
  
No. She wouldn’t explain it or even acknowledge it. It was a stupid kiss on the cheek, damn it! She washed her hands and rushed back to bed. Wasn’t she too tired? She had work tomorrow, after all. The thought of that barely settled her down. It had been so long since she had a bona fide job with clocking in and out. But how long would she even have it? How long before she had no choice but to disclose the fact that she was pregnant, come to Tess asking for maternity leave? And, considering the possible complications, could she even call it a leave? What if circumstances made it so she never came back from…

  
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, think about that. It was enough, right now, that she was doing _something._  

  
And she’d do all she could. Whatever time she had, she would use it well. It couldn’t be like last time. There was no time to get sloppy.   
  
She could admit it now. She hadn’t thought it through before, using The Planet’s servers for searches best left to outside sources, using her Planet computer for other activities and then balking when – surprise! – Lex spied on her every move. She’d been silly and idealistic then. Not now. She knew what she was walking into with Tess. And she’d be prepared.  
  
******************  
  
“Just something more secure,” she explained as they moved out of the commissary, “for the kind of things I don’t want showing up on The Planet’s servers.”  
  
“So a blocker?” Victor grunted.  
  
“Nothing that obvious. Maybe more of a mask than a block. I just want a way to bypass or trick whatever spyware she’s got installed when I need to.”  
  
“Well, I can set you up with laptops for now, then see if we can work on coding to…” A buzzer went off and Victor froze, turning to the front door at the end of the hall.  
  
Chloe followed his gaze. “Are you expecting anyone?”  
  
“Of course not. Probably just a delivery man. You know, let me take care of this and I’ll meet you upstairs,” he said quickly, ushering her to the elevator.   
  
“But…”  
  
“Don ’t worry about it. I’ll get you all set up before work.” He herded her in and pressed three before she could blink.  
  
She found herself staring at the keyhole where the four should be just above it, then shot a hand out to stop the door. She was getting a little tired of the gang’s whispers and significant looks. It felt like every single one of them was always shooing her away or telling her not to worry or having loaded conversations right in front of her.  
  
She pressed a hand to the opened door and peeked around. It wasn’t a delivery man with Victor. It was a woman, a slight, blonde woman with round glasses and closely cropped hair. They were headed for the elevator. She stepped back as their voices came closer.  
  
“… a little early, but I emailed last night to tell you I couldn’t do it this afternoon, so I thought…”  
  
“I didn’t get it,” Victor cut in. “I was busy with Emil. But it’s fine. We just need to be more on top of it. I just don’t want to have to explain to her, if she saw you…”  
  
The woman sighed. “I personally think she _should_ be seeing me. But fine. How’s _he_ today?”  
  
“I don’t know. Bart usually takes care of…” He stopped abruptly as they stepped into the elevator, a rather horrified look on his face at Chloe still standing near the panel.  
  
Chloe brazened it out, smiling widely. “I figured I’d hold the elevator. It’s only polite.” Unlike keeping secrets from her while she’s living in the middle of them! She held out a hand to the woman. “Hi, I’m Chloe.”  
  
The woman smiled and shook her hand. “Hi. Sarah. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”  
  
“Wish I could say the same. I didn’t know we had… visitors here,” Chloe finished awkwardly, looking her over. Young, pretty, professional looking clothes, but with splatters of paint at the edges of her sleeves and on the messenger bag on her shoulder.  
  
“Well, I’m not so much a visitor as a…” She looked to Victor, who looked like a deer in the headlights. “A consultant,” she finished.  
  
“Oh? On what?”  
  
“Well, I work at the youth center and sometimes…”  
  
“Hey, Chloe, I was thinking cell phones,” Victor said quickly, pressing the three. “You know, with a hot spot. I can hook them up to a satellite network and…”  
  
“That sounds great,” she cut in. “We’ll work on it.” She turned back to Sarah, pasting on a wide smile. “So you work at the youth center? And how do you know Victor?”  _And why doesn’t he want me to see you?_  She didn’t say that, though. She’d much rather keep it light.  
  
“Well, it’s a funny story…”  
  
“It’s a long story," Victor cut in. "Chloe’s got work to get ready for and…”  
  
“Vic, come on.” Sarah laughed. “I can give her the short version. See, I was in the park on outing with some of my kids. I work with special-needs children, mostly with physical handicaps and we stumbled into Victor when one of my boys hit him in the head with a baseball. At the time, his prosthetics were… Well, they were undergoing repairs and some of my kids are no stranger to prosthetics. They got a real kick out of him. They’d probably get an even bigger kick if they knew the rest of it.” She beamed at Victor.  
  
Chloe looked at Victor, drumming his fingers on the console and looking anywhere but at Sarah. Cute. But it still didn’t explain anything. “So what do you consult on here?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“That’s your floor,” Victor announced loudly as the doors opened with a ding. “Let me just get Sarah settled in and I’ll be right with you.”  
  
_Settled in where?_  But he herded her out so quickly, she could barely say goodbye. “Nice meeting… you,” she finished lamely as the door closed. Maybe she was being nosy. Whatever business the woman had here, it might be Victor’s alone. But she heard her.  _I personally think she should be seeing me._  That had to mean her. Well, now she had seen her, which Victor seemed none too happy about. Why was Victor so keen to hide her?  
  
She wasn’t sure, but she had seen Victor take some keys from his pocket as the door closed. She narrowed her eyes and moved to the control room, already alive with the sound of the dead. Bart must be on an early morning zombie destruction mission. To her surprise, he wasn’t alone.   
  
She stepped up behind them. “John?”  
  
“Good morning. Can’t talk. Very busy,” Jones said dully.  
  
“We’re on a murderous spree,” Bart said with relish.   
  
Chloe had to laugh. “With a man of the law?”  
  
“I think the good detective’s kill count might one day match my own.”  
  
“The day might be today if I can just get that flame thrower.”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “I thought the machinery up here bothered you too much.”  
  
“Doesn’t seem to now,” Jones grunted.  
  
Chloe kind of wished they’d give it a rest for a second. She had questions and they had answers. Then again, maybe she’d be more likely to get them if they were distracted. She cleared her throat. “So Sarah’s here,” she said casually.  
  
Bart snorted as he kept playing. “Victor’s girlfriend? Must be Tuesday.”  
  
“So Victor’s seeing her?”  
  
Bart let out a wry laugh. “No, but I just bet he wants to. And not professionally.”  
  
Interesting, but not exactly what she needed to know. Still, he was talking. “Victor Stone with a crush. How would that go down?”  
  
Bart chuckled. “Probably on the couch. He’ll spill his guts and she’ll take her little notes and it’ll be all love, therapy style.”  
  
“So she’s a therapist?”  
  
“Eh, not quite yet. But she’s on her…”  
  
“Careful,” she heard John say lowly. “You’re heading for a trap. Lots of dead in there,” he finished more loudly.  
  
She couldn’t help thinking he was talking about more than the game as Bart abruptly paused and swiveled his chair to her. “Hey, what are you doing hanging around here? Big day today! Don’t you have to get to work?”  
  
“Not just yet,” she said through clenched teeth, glaring at the back of John’s head. It was damned impossible to be sneaky with a mind-reader in the room. She pasted on a smile as John rose and turned to her. “Your powers seem to be working just fine now.”  
  
“Well, Oliver and I weren’t able to track down the source of interference. Honestly, I’m not concerned. It could be something as small as the signal from a cell tower.”  
  
Chloe tilted her head, momentarily forgetting her annoyance. “Has that ever happened before?”  
  
“Well… no.” Jones frowned. “Hard thing about being the last of my kind. Not a lot of case studies to go by, as I’m sure Clark can attest. We’ll figure it out.”  
  
“I still think it’s Victor,” Bart said. “Sneaky little toaster.”  
  
“You know, I happen to be in here,” she heard Victor call from the back of the room. She turned to him.  
  
As did Bart. “Yeah? Didn’t hear you come in.”  
  
“Because, unlike you, I work quietly,” Victor muttered, going through a cabinet. “Chloe, I’m going to set you and Clark up with laptops and cells. You can use them as a hotspot for internet until I find a way to bypass Tess’ spyware.”  
  
“Sounds fine,” she said, trying not to sound impatient. “But where’s our visitor?”  
  
Victor stilled. “She’s just… needs to… You know, she…”  
  
“She’s probably preparing her notes,” John broke in calmly. “Since no one else will tell you, I suppose I will.” He smiled. “Sarah Simms is a youth counselor and a therapist in training, studying at Metropolis University. Victor happened upon her by chance and it turned out we needed someone like her, all of us.”  
  
“So… she’s the group’s therapist?” She looked at each of them.  
  
“Doctor Hamilton’s one thing,” Jones said easily, “but a team like this has more than medical needs.”  
  
“Yes,” Bart said, almost too eagerly. “She’s really helping me work through my rage issues and all that.”  
  
“You don’t have rage issues,” Chloe scoffed.  
  
“Exactly!” Bart nodded. “Thank you, Doctor Sarah!”   
  
Chloe threw up her hands. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you guys just tell me? Why all the secrecy?”  
  
Bart sighed loudly. “I just didn’t want you to think less of me, Dollbaby.”  
  
“If you’re worried Sarah Simms can’t be trusted, don’t be. She checks out.” Jones tapped his head. “But you can run a background check if you don’t trust my judgment.”  
  
“I’m not saying I don’t…”  
  
“Morning.” She turned to find Clark in the doorway, holding two coffee cups and looking rather sheepish. “Uh… I was thinking we should maybe go in together.” He held out one cup. “I brought tea.”  
  
************  
  
“Clark, give it back. It’s only six blocks to work and it’s not that heavy.”  
  
“Yes, it is.”  
  
“How could  _you_  tell?”  
  
“Well, two laptops. I’ve heard you grouse about carting one around.”  
  
“That was back when they weighed a ton,” she said, falling into step beside him. “I’ll feel stupid walking in with you having two bags and me having nothing. It’s like those guys in high school that always followed girls around, carrying their books. They’ll think you’re my… gopher,” she finished awkwardly. That wasn’t what she’d started to say, but it sounded safer.   
  
“Okay,” he sighed, stopping. “You can take mine.” He handed her a rather beat-up briefcase that weighed almost nothing… and rattled.  
  
“What’s in here?”  
  
“Pencils, a notebook. I figured I should bring something. It’s probably stupid.”  
  
“No. I’m impressed. You’re even wearing a suit.”  
  
He smiled and shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t very prepared on my  _first_  first day. I brought my backpack and wore a flannel. Lois made me feel like such a rube. I figured I had to be even more prepared for you, with the way you always bossed me around at The Torch.”  
  
She gasped. “I barely…”  
  
“You did and you know it,” he chuckled. “Even after The Torch.”  
  
“Pfft! I’ve only ever gently nudged you toward realizing your full potential and...”  
  
He laughed loudly, then. “In the bossiest way possible.”  
  
“That’s not…”  
  
“I’ve even got a few red pens in there since that was always your favorite way to decorate my work.” He started down Fourth again. “Anyway, you can handle that…”  
  
“Oh, can I?”  
  
“And I’ll take the hardware from now on,” he went on, ignoring her. “Feel better?”  
  
She moved with him, sipping at her tea. “I’d feel better if this was coffee.”  
  
He stopped again and held out his cup. “Okay. You can have a couple sips of my coffee, too.”  
  
“You’re just so giving today.”  
  
He pulled it back. “Fine. If you don’t…”  
  
“I didn’t say that.” She snatched his cup quickly and took a gulp, then choked on it.  
  
“What?” He dropped the bag. “Is it too hot? Damn it, I didn’t even check!”  
  
“No,” she croaked. “It’s too sweet. It’s almost half sugar.” She handed it back. “You can’t even taste the coffee.”  
  
He shrugged. “It’s better that way.”  
  
She shook her head. “How are we even friends?” she managed around the coughing.  
  
“Beats me,” he said on a chuckle, rubbing her back. “You okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes, then took her tea back, taking a long sip, then another, frowning. She wasn’t a fan of tea to start, but it tasted awfully bitter after the sugar rush. But that wasn’t what had her frowning. It was Clark’s hand. It was still rubbing.   
  
She was torn between telling him to rub between her rather tense shoulders and telling him to quit touching her so much, that this was exactly the kind of thing that had her planting awkward kisses on him. But then she’d have to bring up the kiss… which she wouldn’t. It was a silly peck on the cheek and she would not give it another second of attention.   
  
She stepped away instead. “All better,” she said brightly. “We should hurry up. Don’t want to be late.”  
  
“It’s only ten to eight,” she heard him say behind her.  
  
“I know. And we’re not even halfway there.”  
  
“You just said it was only six blocks,” he muttered.  
  
“I know. Isn’t it great?” She walked faster. “I’m thinking I might look for a place in this neighborhood. It’s not as nice as midtown, but it has to be cheaper and…”  
  
“This again?”  
  
“Yes, this again,” she groaned. “As soon as I feel settled with work, I’m going to start looking for something.”  
  
“Maybe you’ll be too busy,” he said, sounding rather hopeful.  
  
She stopped and turned to him. “Clark, it’s really sweet that you worry and all, but I need my own space.”  
  
“I get that.” But he didn’t. He stepped closer, as if denying her even personal space. “But I still think the farm…”  
  
“Can we table this? We have a big day to get through and we need to focus.”  
  
“You’re the boss,” he mumbled.  
  
“Would you quit that?” she huffed.  
  
He smirked. “Sure, Boss.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and walked on. “You’re hilarious.”  
  
“Gee! Thanks, Boss.”  
  
“Stop calling me boss.” She stopped as she turned the corner and saw The Planet ahead. She turned to Clark and gestured him in. “So here’s how today’s gonna go…”  
  
 ****


	10. Chapter 10

** **

**B** **anner by Bkwurm1**

  
**Chapter Ten**

  
  
Tess stared out her office window into the bullpen – or _glared_ at the new model employees. Three weeks now, since Sullivan and Kent started, and she had nothing to complain about. All internet searches were story-related. Assignments were handed in promptly. Breaks were short. She couldn’t even catch them playing Minesweeper on company time.   
  
And all that would have been fine if they’d just talk. It seemed like they did nothing at work, but… work. And it was maddening.   
  
Hell, she’d put Chloe on obits and Clark on the police blotter yesterday. That was basement-level. No one else on this floor would stand for it. But they didn’t even grouse across their desks about it. In fact, all they talked about was what to get for lunch or their stories.  
  
“How are you doing this?” Tess hissed before shutting her blinds and pacing away. Maybe she was getting paranoid. Maybe they were just dedicated reporters. Yet she’d always regretted not keeping a closer eye or ear on Lane and Kent last year. But Lane, for all her bluster, didn’t know about Clark. She’d bet her life on it. Sullivan was smack in the middle of everything. Having Sullivan across from Kent was supposed to be like a megaphone, broadcasting every secret Lex wouldn’t tell.  
  
As frustrating as  _they_  were right now, Lex was worse. He didn’t seem to care that all they did was work. He even laughed when she voiced her frustrations, giving her some anecdote about Chloe storming into his office in a snit when she discovered his spyware.  
  
“Looks like she’s finally learned to cover her tracks,” he’d said, amused. “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
But she did. The more he said not to, the more she worried about it, damned near obsessed over it. What was Lex hiding? What were they hiding? How were they hiding it? And why the hell was she always tossed into situations with no answers?  
  
She strode back to the window, opened the blinds, only to find them gone. It would have been even more annoying if every desk not containing an intern wasn’t also empty.  _Lunch._  Basement might have to work through, but top floor got an hour and a half.  
  
And that was for the best. That meant their computers were open, she realized with a smile, for scheduled maintenance.  
  
***************  
  
“So what are you thinking for lunch? Indian? Thai?” Clark nudged her shoulder as they moved along Front Street.   
  
”I’m thinking Creole.”  
  
“And I’m thinking I should start packing a lunch from now on. All you ever want is spicy food and I’m not always in the mood for it.”  
  
“Just keep walking,” Chloe said, moving ahead of him, then annoyed when she had to stop at the crosswalk and Clark’s arm shot out, like she was too much of a simpleton not to walk into traffic.  
  
“Careful.”  
  
“Clark, I’ve spent more time in the city than you,” she groused. “I know the little red hand means stop.”  
  
“Well, you’re in such a hurry, I…”  
  
“Yes, I am. You should be, too. We need to find somewhere we can take a good run from?” She started walking as the light changed.  
  
He sighed behind her. “Where exactly is this Creole place you want to try?”  
  
“New Orleans,” she said, trying for nonchalance.   
  
He stepped in front of her on the other side of the street. “Chloe, if this is some kind of extreme craving, that’s one thing, but if this is about Tess, then no.”  
  
“Clark, she grew up in the bayou. Now, Katrina did a number on her home turf, but some records survived and if we can…”  
  
“You said we were dropping this.”  
  
“No. I said we were keeping a low profile at first. And we have. This is why.”   
  
“Chloe, how many times have I told you? We’ve got a system that works, here. Tess doesn’t hear a thing and you don’t poke the bear. If you start letting your curiosity get the best of you, then…”  
  
She let him go on as she looked for their best jumping-off point. Having been raised by Jonathon Kent, Clark might have a platitude or ten to get out of his system before he’d let her convince him to do things her way. And even Clark couldn’t deny that her way had worked so far.  
  
They’d done well enough. Their first week had been spent, aside from doing the kind of dry city hall reports she could do in her sleep, masking their searches. Victor had given them cell phones that acted as hot spots and it was easy enough to switch over to that network when she wanted to dig into something off the books. Clark had been using it to listen to the police scanner on low, but she kept her focus on Tess Mercer. But she kept quiet about that – even to Clark.   
  
They actually had no choice. She wasn’t about to run around, loudly talking about thwarting aliens and overthrowing Luthors all over the bullpen. She wasn’t that green anymore. She was going to keep things under wraps this time. On that note…  
  
The second week had been spent developing a way to communicate that didn’t involve the very obviously bugged nameplates that had been waiting for them on their first day. Even without Clark’s X-ray vision, she could see they were a bit on the bulky side for stamped plastic. They started small. Chloe would speak under her breath and Clark could blink once for yes and twice for no. Besides that, they texted.  
  
If they absolutely had to speak, there were places. The break room had been ruled out early on as, even if it weren't bugged, it was never empty. The copy room was monitored by closed circuit cameras. But the supply closet was always an option. Clark had visually swept it for electrical devices, but aside from the odd electric stapler, it was clean. Chloe didn’t count on it being that way for long, once Tess Mercer figured out that Chloe’s trips there were closely followed by Clark’s.   
  
The big question was… why? Tess Mercer knew more about Clark Kent than anyone else outside their circle. What more did she need? She’d turned a blind eye to his over-long coffee breaks, green-lit positive stories about The Blur with barely a knowing look Clark’s way, had even made it clear before they started that she had no issue with his rushing off to save the day. Whenever Chloe tried to look at it from Tess’ perspective, she saw nothing more Tess could want. She had a specially-abled reporter working under her that fed into the news cycle every day. So why were they being monitored?  
  
She wasn’t about to storm into Mercer’s office and declare she knew, demand transparency as if Luthorcorp was just any other company. She’d learned a few lessons with Lex. It was best to work stealthily. She’d get her answers about Tess the hard way – starting from the beginning.  
  
She stopped at a rather rank alleyway and realized Clark was still talking.  
  
“…like that story with blackbeard’s wife and you know what happened to her.”  
  
“Bluebeard,” she corrected absently. This would do.  
  
“What?”  
  
She turned to him. “Bluebeard. If you’re trying to teach me a lesson about curiosity, Bluebeard was the one with the wife who found his forbidden room where he kills his wives.”  
  
“Fine. Bluebeard, then.”  
  
“But I can’t group that in with your other platitudes because it’s not some cautionary tale about poking around where you shouldn’t because that wife stopped his reign of wife-killing terror, so there.” She gestured into the alleyway, smiling widely. “Clark, let’s poke around.”   
  
His eyes widened. “Huh?”  
  
“The sleeping bear? New Orleans? I bet you could get us there in five minutes, we have an hour to look around, fifteen for lunch, then plenty of time to zip back, so come on!”  
  
“Yeah, well… I mean, I get you meant that because… yeah.” He groaned and pulled her into the alleyway. “Chloe, this isn’t a good…”  
  
“Clark, Tess knows more than Lex ever did about you, probably more than Lionel, and she’s still bugging us? We need to turn that back on her. We need to figure out what she’s after. And what better way than to know her better?”  
  
“But…”  
  
“Clark, do you trust me?”  
  
His eyes softened and his hands moved down her arms, gripping her hands. “Of course I trust you, Chloe. You’re my best…”  
  
She stepped back quickly. “I mean, do you trust my instincts?” She wasn’t sure what made her pull away. Maybe it was the fact that he was making this into some tender, friendship moment that they surely didn’t need.   
  
If anything, their friendship was stronger than ever. Walking to work, desks across from each other, lunch together, going over assignments on the way home. It was almost high school all over again and that was a rhythm she fell easily into with him… but for one little hiccup.   
  
He was touching her all the time.  
  
That was what had her pulling away, honestly. It wasn’t that it was repellent or even unwelcome. It was just… It was constant and damned confusing. Before, there was the odd hug, the casual, comfortable shoulder bump, the occasional blanket by the fire. Now, every time she turned around, there were Clark’s hands -- at her back, on her shoulder, gripping her arms, clasping her hands…  
  
“Clark, we’ve never looked closely into Tess,” she went on, shaking off her confusion and diving into something she felt sure of. “We only ever avoided her and that, obviously, didn’t work. She knows about you. She knew a damned lot about me. And no one’s ever questioned why she ended up in our lives. Why did a lab worker leap up the corporate ladder to CEO so suddenly?”  
  
“Because Lex implanted cameras in her eyes. Oliver told us that. She was just a pawn in his game, but he’s gone now and…”  
  
“Then why is she still playing? If Tess is so okay with you being The Blur, why is she monitoring us? We’ve never looked into her, Clark,” she pointed out, “not really. We were always dealing with the next crisis.”  
  
“Like now? You have enough to deal with without…”  
  
“No,” she cut in. “This is not a crisis. I am handling it.” Not acknowledging it, exactly, but handling it. Aside from the slowly-fading morning sickness and the ever-growing bladder pressure, this baby was not a crisis… yet.  _Crisis_. Something in her recoiled at the word. She put a hand to her stomach as she stepped closer to him. “We finally have time to delve into Tess Mercer and I’m not going to waste this opportunity. Maybe that’s our first big scoop here at Daily Planet 2.0.”   
  
“Like Tess would print it,” he grumbled.  
  
“Clark, you worked under Tess for almost a year. How many stories made it to print?” She met his eyes. “This isn't about the story. It's about the truth. Don’t you want it?”  
  
*******************  
  
“I don’t want their internet searches,” Tess growled at her IT man. “I already get alerts in real time and they’re useless. I just want…” She stopped. She didn’t even know. It wasn’t something this man could give her. Apparently, all Clark and Chloe did on their computers was type and search for story-related details. It was damned boring. “Never mind. Go back up archives or something,” she said absently, waving the man off as she opened Clark’s desk drawer.  
  
Gum, pens, paper clips, candy bars, snack cakes... Not exactly health food. Then again, Clark’s unique constitution could probably handle massive amounts of sugar without fattening up. Chloe’s top drawer was the opposite of Clark’s. Granola bars, those disgusting canned milkshakes that were, apparently, good for you, herbal tea bags, bottles and bottles of pills. She looked over each one, trying to find something contraband. At this point, she’d take No-Doz as an excuse to call one of them into her office. But it was all vitamins.  
  
That was strange in itself. She’d had little enough time with Chloe Sullivan, but her records didn’t indicate she was a health nut. And tea bags? Lex had once claimed her coffee consumption at The Planet should have negated her wages. Lex…  
  
She slammed the drawer shut and dialed him.  
  
“What is it, Tess?” He said, sounding annoyed. “I’m…”  
  
“There’s nothing, Lex.”  
  
“What are you…”  
  
“I don’t get it,” she said over him, pacing the empty bullpen. “Why did I even hire them to work here if all they do here is… work?” It sounded almost ridiculous, saying it out loud.  
  
“Again with this.” He sighed heavily. “Can’t this wait until I get back?”  
  
“From where?”  
  
“Never mind where. I’ll be back by six.”  
  
“But I can’t find anything on their computers or in their drawers and they barely ever talk and... Why are you so calm about this?”  
  
“Because it doesn’t matter. Now will you stop bothering me about it?”   
  
“Then why did you have me hire them in the first place?”  
  
“I never told you to bug them. I just wanted to make sure one of my own is near her at all times.”   
  
“Her?”  
  
“Damn it,” he hissed. “Them. The both of them,” he snapped. “We’re just waiting and observing. Okay? That’s all you need to know.” He hung up.  
  
It wasn’t all she needed to know. And she’d heard him right the first time. He’d said “her.”   
  
He hung up, but that was fine. She had what she needed.  
  
She should have realized it before. Hiring Clark… Looking back on their initial talk, hiring him had almost been an afterthought to Lex. Here, she’d thought she was hiring Chloe to get Clark to follow after, that she was just a path to Clark for Lex, but Chloe… She was the one he was after.  
  
The big question was… Why?  
  
************************  
  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Clark rolled his eyes. “Because it’s below sea level. After floods, bones are found in odd places an everyone acts like it’s supernatural forces. But it’s just nature.”  
  
Chloe frowned into her gumbo before staring at the gated cemetery across the street. “For a guy from another planet, you’re ridiculously skeptical. I was right before. We’re doing high school all over again.”  
  
Clark turned to her on the stone bench. “How do you mean?”  
  
“You used to do this to me all the time. Every time I speculated something weird and wacky was happening, you shot me right down. Later, I decided it was just you trying to keep me from looking closer at all the weird and wacky around _you_ , but now I’m starting to think you’re just a spoilsport.”  
  
“I am not. I’m just being practical . And what do you mean you were right before?”  
  
“Just something I was thinking earlier,” she said, laughing to herself. “You and me… right now, we’re almost exactly like we were in high school, except for the touching. Anyway, I’m starting to think you like shooting my ideas down strictly because I thought of them first.”  
  
“The touching?”  
  
She stopped. She hadn’t meant to mention that part. “Where the hell is my package?” she mused, changing the subject as she stood and stretched.  
  
Their little trip had nearly been a bust. Chloe knew that closed adoption records were rarely handed out, so she’d taken a few precautions. She’d temporarily changed Tess’ picture in most databases to her own, gotten a reasonable fake driver’s license, and tried to appear emotionally invested. Clark didn’t approve, particularly not when she unbuttoned her sweater and put a hand to her stomach and manufactured a tear, claiming she was worried about inherited disorders.   
  
It didn’t work on the tired man running her window, but it did work on the gray-haired woman one window over, who took her aside and asked her to wait at the park two streets over. “I’ll see what I can do,” she’d said tearily.  
  
“I still don’t like this,” Clark muttered, standing as well. “You’re using your… condition to investigate.”  
  
“Well, considering how much trouble this condition could be, I might as well get something out of it. One little lie to find the truth. It’s not hurting anyone.”  
  
“And what do you mean about the touching?”  
  
“Nothing. You just…” She took a deep breath and turned to him. “You’re always helping me sit, helping me stand, rubbing my back…”  
  
“Well, if it bothers you so much…”  
  
“I never said it bothered me. It’s just a little…” She shrugged. “I just don’t remember you being this solicitous.”  
  
“Well, it’s just your condition. I’m trying to be helpful,” he said, looking a bit on the pouty side.  
  
“Yes, but my condition isn’t exactly severe. I don’t need help sitting and standing and crossing the street and…”  
  
“Fine. I’ll stop bothering you,” he grumbled, sitting back down.  
  
She groaned and picked up her soup. “Could you stop putting words in my mouth? I didn't say it bothered me.”  
  
“Well, why are you complaining about it?”  
  
“I wasn’t complaining.” She said around a mouthful. “I was just pointing it out because it was… new. Maybe it’s just the boyscout in you. I don’t know.”  
  
“Yeah. Maybe,” he said, almost too softly to hear. “So it doesn’t bother you?”  
  
“No. It’s nice.” She shook herself. “I mean, it’s nice that you’re so helpful. Forget I said anything. Okay?” She tossed him a smile.  
  
He stared at her for what seemed like a long time before speaking. “Okay. I forget.” He nodded at something behind her. “I think your new friend is coming.”  
  
Chloe stiffened and glanced over her shoulder before she unbuttoned her jacket, putting a hand to her stomach. “How do I look? Pregnant enough?”  
  
Clark frowned. “Not really.”  
  
Chloe huffed.   
  
“Well, you don’t. It’s just like you gained a little.”  
  
Chloe huffed louder.  
  
Clark threw up his hands. “I give up. What do you want to hear?”  
  
“Neither of those! You know, my new friend back there said I was glowing,” she turned and waved at the woman now crossing the street toward them. “I didn’t mind that.”  
  
Clark stood next to her, waving as well. “Fine, you’re very… flushed.”  
  
“Never mind. You’re not helping,” she said through her smile.  
  
“I’m not sure I want to help with this, anyway.” He pasted on a smile as well. “Poking into Tess, taking advantage of this nice lady…”  
  
“Stop it. She’ll hear you,” Chloe hissed as the woman moved across the street. “Hi. Thanks so much for this.”  
  
“Oh, please. I’m just so sorry about making you wait in the cold, Sugar,” she said, rather harried as she approached them. “I just had to get on my lunch.”  
  
“Wow,” Clark whispered loudly. “Giving up her lunch. What a nice lady.”  
  
Chloe nudged him as she waved the woman off. She refused to feel guilty about this. “It’s not cold yet. I’m just so grateful to get any information before…” She cradled her stomach and looked down in what she hoped was an angelic way. “Well, you know.”  
  
“Well, I understand what you’re going through. You know, I’m an adoptive mom, myself. Lord knows it’s tough to get anything with a closed adoption, but this one’s locked up tighter than…” The woman sighed and shook her head at Chloe. “Well, I suppose you know already with what you’ve been through.”  
  
“Of course,” Chloe said, before nudging Clark. “Please,” she said under her breath.  
  
“Uh… What’s she been through?” he finally asked.  
  
The woman looked to Chloe, who endeavored to give her a sad nod.  
  
“Well, the contact attempts, the letters you wrote that we could just… could just never deliver.” She swiped at her eyes and took Chloe by the hand. “And I wish I could get more on them for you. But I just can’t. But you listen to me. That doesn’t make you any less special. I’m sure your adoptive parents love you and wished for you more than they could ever say and gave you all the love you deserve. You have to know that, Sugar.”  
  
_Damn it._  Now she did feel guilty. “I know,” she lied. From what she knew of Tess’ upbringing, it had been harsh and painful. To know she’d got nothing better from her birth parents made this feel like even more of an invasion. Still, they’d come this far. “Were you able to get anything at all?” she said, pushing away the sick feeling.  
  
She pulled an envelope from her bag. “Well, I did get your infant vaccination records and some info from an early medical questionnaire the first agency handling you. You understand, I had to black out some of the information with the restrictions on your case. But I just wanted to make sure you could rest easy about that baby.”  
  
“Thanks so much,” Chloe said, taking the envelope and trying not to sound disappointed.   
  
“You don’t have much to worry about. Some asthma and allergies, but nothing too severe. So…” She smiled. “No bad surprises. Maybe just nice surprises. Did you find out the sex or are you waiting?”  
  
Chloe stared down at envelope. All the way to New Orleans for vaccination records. What a waste of…  
  
“Tess?”  
  
Clark bumped her shoulder. “She’s talking to you,  _Tess_.”  
  
“Huh? Tess… Yes. Right. Sorry. It’s just been a long day. Um… What?”  
  
“Did you two find out the sex or do you want to be surprised?”  
  
Chloe glanced at Clark. “Oh, he’s not…”  
  
“I’m not big on surprises,” Clark said quickly, hooking an arm over her shoulders. “It’s a boy.”  
  
The woman put a hand to her chest. “I bet you’re already buying baseball caps.”  
  
“I’m more of a football…”  
  
“Yes, we’re very excited,” Chloe cut in.   
  
“As you should be.” She smiled and nodded. “I’ve got a good feeling about you two.”  
  
“Thanks so much… Uh…”  
  
“Oh, it’s Mary Louise. Such a pleasure to meet you, Tess. And…” She looked to Clark.  
  
“Rufus,” he said after a moment. “Rufus Q. Beauregarde.”  
  
“Well, Tess and Rufus. I hope you have a happy, healthy, beautiful baby boy.”  
  
“I do, too,” Chloe said, swallowing over a rather sudden lump in her throat. Even with the Tess and Rufus part, this was the first person to congratulate her on her pregnancy . Even if it was to a stranger who knew nothing of the true situation, it felt rather nice to have someone see this baby as good news. “Thanks so much. For everything,” she added, pushing away the sudden urge to cry and pasting on a smile.  
  
She didn’t drop it until Mary Louise was safely across the street.   
  
“You talk about my lying, Rufus,” she whispered, turning to Clark and dislodging the arm around her. “Where did you get that name?”  
  
“Off one of the mausoleums over there.” He nodded at the cemetery.  
  
Chloe snorted. “What if she asked you what the Q stood for?”  
  
“I’d have… said… I don’t know. I had to say something. You don’t want her thinking you’re a struggling single mother on top of your painful closed adoption. She was weeping for you already, the poor…”  
  
“Well, I am about to be a struggling, single mother, so maybe I deserve some of her sympathy. Okay?” God, she wanted to cry again.  
  
“Oh. No. Okay. I’m sorry,” Clark said in rush. “Please don’t cry. You know, we could stop by that bakery we passed before…”  
  
“Oh, stop it. I’m fine. It’s just… just hormones. I don’t know.” She swiped at her eyes. “Maybe I’d feel better if this hadn’t been a waste of time.” She tore open the envelope. “All the way down here for vaccination records…”  
  
Clark sighed and looked over her shoulder -- rubbed it, too. She’d said his touching didn’t bother her, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t confusing as hell… but while he was there, he might as well rub her neck. She tilted her head and he seemed to get the hint, moving his hand to her neck.  
  
“Well, I don’t want to say I told you so, but…”  
  
“Then don’t,” she cut in.   
  
“Well, we got this far and hit a brick wall,” he said as his thumb made circles on her nape. “Since I never wanted to dig into Tess in the first place, I’m fine with this.”  
  
She huffed and moved away, since he’d effectively ruined her neck rub. “But why was her adoption closed up so tight? Mary Louise even said it was locked up tighter than most.” Chloe leafed through the records. Most of the info was even blacked out, there was hardly anything to… Chloe stopped, her eyes widening at Tess’ infant inoculation card.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Even Tess couldn’t get the info. If that’s not a sign we should drop it…”  
  
“Oh, no. I just got a sign we’re nowhere near dropping this.” She turned to Clark, holding out the card. “Look where baby Tess got her shots.”  
  
Clark frowned and took it. “Metropolis General.”  
  
*************  
  
Tess stared at Chloe through her blinds again, but with new eyes this time. It was Chloe Lex was after. That changed everything. She’d spent the afternoon looking over all she’d had on her, but none of it told her what she needed to know. She may have shut down Black Creek, but she kept the files.   
  
Chloe had been tested extensively there, but her original meteor abilities had been found to be dormant. There had been some freak power involving heightened processing skills, but her little birds had told her that had been eradicated some time before her wedding. There was Davis Bloome’s fixation on her, but he was gone. She’d like to think she knew about as much about Chloe Sullivan as she did about Clark Kent. But it seemed like little enough right now.  
  
There were a few things that surprised her, now that she was looking again. She’d never observed the two of them together before now. They seemed to touch a lot more than she’d expected. Nothing huge, just little touches that, when added up, seemed to explain why their other relationships never seemed to work out. Clark was also extremely... she'd call it protective, but it was all too ridiculous. She once saw him berate her for trying to microwave her soup, insisting he do it. He pulled the same thing when she tried to lift a box of paper in the copy room. She'd known they were close, but maybe they were closer. Was that it? Was that why Lex was focused on her, some kind of bargaining chip to use against Clark? It didn’t seem like the answer.   
  
Strangely enough, the more she watched Clark, the less interesting he seemed. Take the powers away and he was just a farm boy, a fair enough writer, and definitely not a good enough investigator considering all the tools in his grasp. She watched him pouring M &Ms into his mouth in a particularly unremarkable way as he typed. Chloe was reaching across for his coffee, but he pulled it away and pointed at her cup, ever-present tea bag sticking out of it.  
  
Chloe frowned and sipped at it, grimacing before unwrapping a granola bar. It made Tess think of their drawers again. She’d think Chloe had the junk food drawer as she’s the one who’d gained a few. Nothing massive, but Tess had noted her face and her hips seemed fuller, maybe her stomach just a little…  
  
Tess gasped as she stared at them. The weight gain, the vitamins, the protective little freakouts... When you put it all together, it was almost too obvious.  
  
“Pregnant,” she whispered. "Lex, you son of a bastard."

***************

_And I have known the eyes already, known them all—  
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase... _

**************

Tess could barely wait till the elevator doors opened, for the minute they cracked and she saw his stupid, bald head. “Were you ever going to tell me?” she demanded when she finally stormed in.  
  
“Good evening to you, too,” Lex said, barely looking away from the bar. “Merlot? Chardonnay? Scotch?”  
  
She tossed her purse to the floor as she approached him. “Answer the question!”  
  
He laughed as he glanced at her, which only made her angrier. “Whiskey, it is.”  
  
“It’s Chloe you wanted all this time.”  
  
He laughed again. “Really? You know, I don’t usually go for blondes, but in the right light, I suppose she…”  
  
“Stop it!” She slapped the drink from his hand. “Stop treating me like an imbecile! I know she’s pregnant.”  
  
Lex only shrugged. “And?”   
  
She took several deep breaths, hating the smug look on his face, hating the fact that he could stay so cool and collected, looking at her like she was a child throwing a tantrum. Damn it, she was better than this. “And,” she started, slowly, “something tells me you wouldn’t be making all this fuss for the spawn of Henry James Olsen.”  
  
He looked down at the floor. “You know, this carpet is genuine…”  
  
“It’s Clark’s isn’t it? You can’t get him to play on your team…”  
  
“My team?”  
  
“So you think you can take this baby and use it to…”  
  
“Wow. Now I’m a baby thief?” He had the nerve to smile. “What colorful ideas you have of me.”  
  
“I don’t know what to think of you. You won’t even tell me what you do or where you go,” she spat. “And I do everything you ask without question.” She hated, just hated, the whimper in her voice. “I thought we were building up to some kind of trust…”  
  
“We are,” he cut in. “But you aren’t ready."  
  
“Stop saying that! You knew about this, Lex. This is why you wanted her hired. I thought it was about Clark, at the time, but you seemed to barely care he was on board. You want her… or what she’s carrying. Is that it?"  
  
“I want what’s best. Can’t you just trust that?”   
  
“How can I? How did you know all this?”  
  
“I have my ways. Just trust me.”  
  
“How can I trust you when you won’t trust me? I read your research, Lex. I’ve seen all of your projects. I also read your father’s journals. Do you ever think of how it could have been if you'd just trusted each other?”  
  
Lex stiffened and turned away, back to the bar. “He was the one who kept me out.”  
  
“Like you were an open book?” She took the drink from his hands and downed it in one gulp, pacing away. “I want to believe your intentions are good, Lex, but it’s fucking hard when you won’t let me in.” She whirled on him. “And you, of all people, should know how that feels with your father. Look how that ended up! Is that what you want with me?”  
  
He stared past her. “Are you threatening to push me out of a window?” he asked dully.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I wasn’t going to, you know,” he said, his voice flat. “It wasn’t something I planned, I… Even when it was done, I could hardly believe…”  
  
“Stop. Don’t… Don’t tell me that. God!” She moved to him. She didn’t want to know this. Of the many things she wanted to know, whatever happened with Lionel was never on the list. She’d have rather it was kept to hushed whispers. Because -- _damn it_ \-- she wanted to trust him. She didn’t even know why, but there it was. She even wanted his trust in return. “I need you to trust me,” she found herself saying, “trust that I would never hurt you, Lex.” Even when she nearly hated him, like right now, that was true. She gripped his arms, searching out his eyes until they met hers. “There’s something between us, a… connection I felt from that start.” She held his gaze. “I think I felt it the first time I saw you. So I don’t care what you did. I don’t care about the past. I care about what’s happening now. Right now, I need you to let me in, to trust me.”  
  
His eyes seemed to clear as he stared at her. “I will if you will,” he finally said. “I’m telling you that you know all you need to for now.”  
  
She released him and moved away. “Damn it, you keep…”  
  
He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’d never hurt you, either, Tess. That connection… you… you’re not alone.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Listen, you’re upset. Why don’t you stay here tonight?”  
  
She stiffened, was tempted to pull away. “You want me to stay?” she asked, surprised to find her stomach roiling… and not in a pleasant way. But hadn’t she spent all this time crazy about him? Why did she feel so hesitant now?  
  
“I can make up the couch if you want. It’s actually pretty damned soft and....”  
  
“The couch?” She rolled her eyes and turned to him. “You know you could just say it.”  
  
He shook his head. “Say what?”  
  
“If you’re trying to proposition me, then…”  
  
He pulled away, something like horror in his eyes. “Is that what you think?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“Jesus!” He backed away. “Is this what you do?”  
  
“What I do?”  
  
“Is this what you’ve been doing all these years? Fucking every man that’s halfway decent to you?”  
  
“No. Usually it’s the ones that aren’t,” she said, frowning. “But I wasn’t…”  
  
“And that’s so much better," he growled, pacing away. "You know what? Let’s just stop this now! That’s not what this is… You and me… This is not..." He stilled, leaning against the wide window. She saw his face in the glass, disgust plain on it. "That's not what you do anymore, okay? You can be more than that. Better than that." He seemed to recover as he turned to her, a smile on his face when he faced her. “That’s not what’s happening here. We work together, Mercer. Let’s just try to keep things professional.” He moved past her to the elevators and jabbed the button multiple times.  
  
“Where are you going?” She shook her head. “You live here.”  
  
“I know that,” Lex snapped, stopping just before the doors opened and stepping aside. “I was… I was just opening them for you.”  
  
“Yes. Thank you,” she breathed, rather dazed as she moved past him and into the elevator, trying to figure out what just happened.   
  
“Wait.” Lex stopped the doors, lifting his eyes to hers. “Tess, I feel a connection, too. I trust you. I might even… care about you. But not like that.”  
  
The doors closed on him.   
  
She was glad to see it at the moment.  
  
That night, she tossed and turned in her four poster. All this time, she’d been fixated on him. Yet, the minute she thought something might happen between them, she felt repelled. The again, nothing would have happened. Lex’s look of abject horror at the idea of it conveyed that just fine.  
  
Why was she so upset? Because he rejected something she wasn’t even offering? That seemed petty.  
  
Maybe it was the confusion. This connection between them -- she couldn’t figure it out. Lex, even Lex, said he felt it. Up until tonight, she’d thought it was attraction. But, when it came down to it, she didn’t exactly find him attractive.   
  
Maybe it was a meeting of minds. They did seem to think alike, always looking for answers to all of…  
  
She sat up in bed.  _Damn him!_  She had no answers. He’d told her nothing tonight. Hell, he might have even diverted the conversation on purpose. She laid back down stiffly, glaring at the ceiling. She was getting tired of dancing to his tune.  
  
********  
  
“Aren’t you tired?”   
  
“It’s barely past midnight.” Chloe turned to Clark in the commissary. “If you want to go to bed, then go.”  
  
“Not without you.”  
  
Chloe held his gaze, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
“I mean, not till you… Well, you know.”  
  
She did. In fact, she’d finally figured it out. All of Clark’s touching, all the fussing… It was the pregnancy. Something about this must be triggering Clark’s heroic instincts. It was actually kind of endearing except when it wasn’t – like now. “You know, I’m not doing anything more strenuous than reading,” she pointed out.  
  
“Most of the info is blacked out on those copies. What are you even reading?”  
  
“Between the lines,” she said absently. “Or more like behind the black marks.” Their friend in Louisiana had been thorough, not giving her much to go on if she wanted to find this well-inoculated baby’s origins. She sat back with a groan. “This is impossible.”  
  
“Good. So drop it,” Clark mumbled  
  
“Not a chance. Is Tess dropping anything with us? Our computers were accessed just this afternoon.”   
  
“So? We’re getting around her just fine.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean we get complacent.”  
  
Clark took a deep breath and met her eyes. “Chloe, this is personal, what we’re looking into. It’s also deep in the past. This tells us nothing about why she’s so fixated on us now.”  
  
“What else do we have to do, Clark?”  
  
“Work, write stories. I guess I was nuts to think you rejoining The Planet’s staff would be about that, but…”  
  
“We can’t just pretend there’s nothing else going on."  
  
Clark threw up his hands. “You can’t do everything at once. You can’t investigate Tess and still break news.”  
  
“I think we can.” She nodded to herself.   
  
“You keep using we. In case you haven’t noticed, I am working under protest.”  
  
She chuckled. “Still, here you are.”  
  
“And here _we_ are!” she heard, loudly announced. She turned to the doorway and found Dinah there, dragging Bart behind her. “Just one little Reuben. Please?”  
  
Bart rubbed his eyes, growling, “I don’t want to.”  
  
“I will pay you twenty bucks,” Dinah whispered to him before pushing him toward the kitchen.  
  
Bart just grunted and moved in, waving sleepily at Clark and Chloe.  
  
Chloe shoved her notes back into the folder, not sure how of this side project she wanted to share with the gang, then turned to Dinah as she sat. “You’re back early.”  
  
“Yeah. Star City was pretty devoid of action, unless you count Oliver’s stupid business dinners. I told him he could wine and dine fat-cats just fine without me. So I took the jet back.” She leaned in. “And how are you?”  
  
“About the same. Maybe fatter,” Chloe grumbled, pulling in her tea cup.  
  
“In a good way” Dinah looked her over. “I mean, you’re bigger, but your rack has totally pulled ahead of your stomach.”  
  
Chloe choked on her tea.  
  
“What? I’m giving you a bright side.” Dinah turned to Clark. “Don’t try to tell me _you_ haven’t noticed.”  
  
Clark pulled Chloe’s folder to himself and opened it quickly. “So Star City…”  
  
Bart popped his head out of the kitchen. “I can do the Reuben, but not the fries,” he said on a yawn.  
  
“Fine. Fifty bucks,” Dinah sighed.  
  
“It’s not about the money. The oil in the fryer’s not gonna heat quick enough to…”  
  
“Clark can give it a little blast.” Dinah turned to Clark. “You can do that, right?”  
  
Clark snorted. “Do I get paid?”  
  
“No. But I can see if I can talk Chloe into undoing a button or two.”  
  
“That’s not… I don’t… You…” Clark dropped the folder and stood. “I’ll go heat your stupid oil.”  
  
Dinah laughed as he stormed into the kitchen.   
  
“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” Chloe said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Tease Clark about… well… anything even remotely sexual,” Chloe finished, toying with her tea bag. “He’s not like the other guys. He gets so easily flustered.”  
  
“Too easily flustered.” Dinah waved a hand. “He’s a grown man. Besides, he did look… a few times… in the last minute,” she finished on a grin.  
  
“Well, how can anyone help it?” Chloe shrugged. “They’re everywhere. Every time I try to look down, there they are, blocking my view.”  
  
“You poor thing. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with barely b-cups and no ass at all.”  
  
Chloe had to laugh. “Fine. Take it all. You can have the smushed bladder and the crazy cravings that do nothing but punish me all night.”  
  
“Baby still wants spicy food?”  
  
“Nothing but. And I’m giving it to him. You’d think he’d be grateful and stop fidgeting.”  
  
Dinah gasped. “Is there kicking? Oh! Can I feel…”  
  
“No. Nothing that obvious yet. Just this restless feeling when I try to sleep, like he refuses to calm down. Or maybe that’s me.” She frowned and opened her folder again. She was rather frustrated. “I really thought I’d be further along by now.” She’d been working at The Planet for weeks now and she still hadn’t figured out Tess.   
  
“Further along? You do know this is a nine month…”  
  
“No. Not him,” Chloe said dismissively. “Maybe Clark’s right. Maybe this is something we shouldn’t be digging into. Or maybe I just feel that way because I’m at a dead end. All I know is that a baby girl had her shots at Metropolis General at the request of... I’ve got as S, an O, a P, an NA and… that’s it.” As hard as she looked through the black marks, she could make only a few letters out.   
  
“That’s funny.”  
  
“Not really. It doesn’t even spell something funny.”  
  
“Not that. The baby. You said  _he_  and  _him_. Usually, even when you start to say that, you have this half-hearted switch to  _it_.”  
  
Chloe looked up, frowning. She hadn’t realized that. Not the “it” thing. Most times, she felt like she was insane to call this baby “he” with the complications. Her pregnancy, apart from annoyance when the symptoms got in the way and the increased calcium and iron Emil was insisting on in the second trimester, wasn’t something she liked to contemplate very deeply. And the baby… it… he… “I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t thinking.” Or maybe she was still stuck in this afternoon, with Mary Louise beaming and crying and congratulating her on her boy. It was strange, seeing this situation through different eyes, ones not full of fear of what could come.   
  
“Anyway, it’s a boy,” Chloe said, the letters blurring in front of her. “I might as well call it  _him_.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about that, anyway.” At least, she didn’t want to. “It’s this lead. I felt so close to it, figuring out Infant Tess was at Met Gen. I’ve even got medical history on the birth family, but this woman blocked out all the relevant info and…”  
  
“You’re still on Tess?” Dinah groaned. “You know, if Oliver, with all his resources, couldn’t figure out…”  
  
“I have a few resources Oliver doesn’t,” Chloe cut in. Most of them being a pregnancy, the willingness to use it to her advantage, and actually  _wanting_  to investigate Tess. She didn’t know all the details, but she sometimes suspected Oliver and Tess ended badly and that it may have been all on him. It would explain the nearly guilty way he avoided dealing with Tess Mercer fully and the large amount of leeway he gave her. But Dinah, of all people, didn’t need to know all that. “I’m getting somewhere,” she went on, “I just keep getting blocked by a Sharpie.” Chloe opened the folders more fully. “I managed to get that her infancy shots were done at Met Gen, but…”  
  
“Well, then get into Met Gen’s files.”  
  
“I tried that. Besides Victor bickering about me using the console…”  
  
“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on Victor. Two seconds on my email and I’m destroying the fabric of hero society,” Dinah laughed.  
  
“I don’t know. I get that he needs it with you all on patrol. I’m just annoyed as I was kind of screwed from the start. They’ve only got digital archives of the last twenty years. Anything older and you need to request a copy.”  
  
“Well, how’d you get this one?”  
  
“I lied a lot, falsified documents, went to New Orleans. But I can’t keep that up,” Chloe sighed sadly. Not just because it was exhausting, but it was hard to lie successfully with Clark hovering over her shoulder like an overgrown Jiminy Cricket. “If I could just get access to…”  
  
“Aren’t you a reporter?”  
  
“Well… yeah. But I need a special pass to get anywhere near records like that.”  
  
Dinah shrugged. “So get one.”  
  
“It’s not that simple. It would have to be story related.”  
  
“So make it story-related.”  
  
“But it’s not that…” She stopped. “Huh.” Was it really that simple?  
  
The kitchen door swung open.  
  
“Alright. Got your precious reuben with fries,” Bart announced loudly. “Would have had it sooner, but crazy eyes over here overheated the oil.” Bart nodded to Clark as he set a plate down. “Had to actually wait for it to cool down.”  
  
Clark just frowned as he took his seat again.  
  
“You’re a prince,” Dinah sighed, holding out some cash.  
  
Bart took it. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to start crashing at my own place. Less annoying, demanding people.”  
  
“I bet it makes up for it in cockroach population.”   
  
“And what do you mean by that?”  
  
“Just that I’ve been there and I notice you never use your boundless speed for cleaning.”  
  
Bart gasped. “Well, if I’m so dirty, maybe I’m not fit to make your food.” He pulled at the plate.  
  
“Hey, I paid good money for that!”  
  
Chloe ignored them and moved to Clark, taking the chair next to him. “I think I’ve got our next step,” she whispered. “We need to get a pitch together.”  
  
*******************  
  
“I just don’t know about this story,” Clark said, following closely behind Chloe.  
  
“What’s to know? We’re coming up on Thanksgiving. Christmas is hot on its heels. Charity is very in style, the colder it gets, and disadvantaged youths should tug some heartstrings.”  
  
“No. I get that. It’s just…” He stopped and pulled her to a stop with him. “Chloe, I haven’t felt comfortable about digging into Tess from the start. And now, this story angle…”  
  
“Clark, it’s not an angle. It’s a story that we are actually going to write. If, on the side, we also find out some very extraneous details about Tess,” she shrugged, “then that’s just a bonus. Besides, we will be doing some genuine good here.”  
  
Clark was still glowering. “Yeah?”  
  
“We’ll be bringing attention to the hospital’s safe drop program and maybe we could even go into Sarah Simms and her work with the kids.”  
  
He smiled just a little. “That is some genuine good-doing. I mean, Sarah needs funding and she does work so hard to…”  
  
“Yeah, she’s a saint,” Chloe groaned, walking on. Not that she didn’t like Sarah. Not that she didn’t admire her work. In fact, she’d looked into her shortly after first meeting her and Sarah Simms _was_ a veritable saint, studying all day and volunteering all night. That was what annoyed her about the whole thing. Something in her gut told her there was something more to Sarah Simms, some reason for the way the gang went to such lengths to hide her presence at first. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe Sarah was just a good and trusted counselor and the only awkwardness was due to her getting so up close and personal with everyone.   
  
She turned to Clark as they walked on. “So have you had sessions with Doctor Sarah?”   
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Counseling sessions, Clark. That's what she's here to do, isn't it?”  
  
“Sarah can be trusted,” Clark said as they approached The Planet.   
  
“That doesn’t answer my question.”  
  
“No. I have not had a… session with her.”  
  
“But everyone else has?”  
  
“You know,” he went on, “I’ve been meaning to make an… an appointment, myself.”  
  
“Well, maybe I should talk to her,” Chloe tried.   
  
“Did you want to?” Clark stopped just before the doors. “I mean, if you want to talk to her, she’s actually said she can make time.”  
  
"No. I don't need counseling,” Chloe broke in, annoyed. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated when Clark, even Clark, seemed to be giving her the run-around. Maybe she was being needlessly paranoid. Maybe no one was hiding anything. “I just meant I could pick her brain about her after school program – for the story and all.” She moved to the doors, but Clark opened them before she could lift a hand.  
  
“Well, tying Sarah’s work in can’t hurt,” he said lowly, “as far as keeping the story pitch legit. We don’t want Tess to be suspicious.”  
  
Chloe had to laugh. “I’ve got a feeling Tess will be suspicious no matter what we do.”  
  
****************  
  
Tess watched them with narrowed eyes as they moved into the break room.   
  
She quickly moved to her desk and turned on that feed. They rarely said anything groundbreaking in there, but right now she needed every word. She was getting little enough from Lex…  
  
_“…already had enough,”_  Clark was saying.  
  
_“I had two sips,”_  Chloe groaned.  _“That was like… a couple teaspoons full. Not even near a half cup.”  
  
“Well, you had your precious half-cup yesterday and you were up half the night, even when I left, so…”_  
  
As boring as this was, it did sort of hammer in one thing. How could she have not seen it before? She’d actually heard little exchanges like this since they started working. She just hadn’t known what they meant before now. So Chloe wasn’t living with Clark. Yet she listed his house for her home address. Where was she staying?  
  
_“… can get it myself,”_  Chloe was saying.   
  
_“Fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you too much or anything.”_  
  
Chloe huffed loudly.  _“Are you still pouting about that? I said it didn’t bother me. But I also don’t need you hovering every time I…”  
  
“Fine. Drink your caffeine and fall off things. I won’t bother you,” _ Clark said, his voice trailing off at the end.  
  
_“Seriously? If you’re going to get all…”_  Chloe’s voice trailed off as well.  
  
Tess’ eyes snapped to the window as they came out of the break room, still talking animatedly, but too low for her to hear. She started to wonder if she could disguise microphones in mistletoe when the Christmas season started when they finally went back to their desks.   
  
She turned the feed up, but she knew from experience that they rarely spoke there.   
  
“… all of our notes together,” was all she heard Chloe say as she sat – followed by a grunt from Clark.  
  
“Screw you,” Tess muttered, turning it off and pushing away from her desk. They were about as informative as Lex. Truth be told, she was still angrier at him. He hadn’t answered his phone all morning, not even to give her his pat answers about how she’d know when she was “ready,” whenever that was. She was getting damned sick of dancing to his tune… and dancing around the truth.  
  
Her eyes moved to the window again, wondering if she’d have better luck with them. Her assistant had told her they’d booked fifteen minutes with her at quarter-to-ten… together She stared at them, wondering if they might be coming in to give her what Lex refused to – answers. Maybe nothing direct, but it would be refreshing to have a conversation where she wasn’t treated like an idiot.  
  
Maybe Chloe would disclose her condition. Maybe Clark would betray his part in it. Maybe they, of all people, would be honest with her. Stranger things had happened in her lifetime.  
  
**********  
  
“Let me get this straight,” Tess said slowly. “You booked time to pitch me a story?”  
  
Chloe nodded. “Yes. Your new policy says that all in-depth pieces have to be cleared with you in advance…”  
  
“I know what it says,” Tess cut in, looking from Chloe to Clark and back to Chloe again. “So you two… want to write a story?”  
  
Chloe stared at Tess, trying to figure out why she seemed so irritated. “I know it’s a crazy kind of thing to do at a newspaper, but…” She shuffled through her notes. “Listen, I’ve got quite a few angles we can hit it at and raise awareness for programs that…”  
  
“Yes. I get all that.” Tess moved back to her desk, muttering. “Holidays, help the kids, isn’t it a beautiful thing.”  
  
Chloe glanced at Clark. She kind of wished he’d speak up more. His whole strong and silent act might be half of why Tess, and Lex before her, always looked at him with such mistrust.  
  
He only shrugged and cleared his throat. “So… Are we okay to start?”  
  
“Yes. Fine.” Tess opened her planner. “Tell Karen what you need and I’ll sign off.”  
  
“Thank you,” Chloe said, relieved, starting for the door.  
  
Tess suddenly shut her planner. “And is there anything else you two want to clear with me in advance?”  
  
Chloe stopped, trying to smile. “No. That’s everything.” She nudged Clark.  
  
“We’ll let you know when we have a first draft,” he put in.  
  
Chloe pulled him out, then toward the file cabinets. “What do you think?”  
  
“About…”  
  
“You were in there.”  
  
He shrugged as he opened the drawer. “Yeah. Did we need form three A or…”  
  
“She was definitely hacked off about something. It’s B.”  
  
Clark stilled. “What? Do you think she suspects we’re looking into her?”  
  
“No.” Chloe frowned. “I was actually watching to see if anything might tip her off. It’s like she was barely listening to the pitch. She seemed angry from the start.”  
  
Clark chuckled. “Maybe it’s getting to her, us bypassing all her bugs.”   
  
“Maybe.”   
  
He pulled the form and leaned against the cabinet, lowering his voice. “I mean, it’s not like she can come out and chew us out for not letting her spy on us every second.”  
  
“Maybe that’s it. It just doesn’t seem like that’s it.”  
  
“Or maybe she’s angry about something that has nothing to do with us. You said it yourself – she seemed angry from the start.”  
  
“Yeah, but…”  
  
“Whatever it is, we have a hospital to get to.” He handed her the form. “Why don’t you give this to Karen? I’ll get our things.”  
  
She handed it back to him, along with the folder. “Switch that. I have a few extra notes I’ll need to bring along.” She smiled just a little as she leaned in. “The secret kind.”  
  
********************  
  
“I still don’t think you’re going to find anything on Tess here,” Clark whispered as the rather brusque nurse left through the archives door.   
  
“We’re not looking for something on Tess, at least not directly.” She turned to him. “Listen, I know you’re still not on board with this, but could you stop naysaying me? I’ve got a plan. Maybe it’s not direct, but…”  
  
The nurse came back. “Okay. I’ve got some open records from the fifties to the eighties. I don’t think they’re going to tell you anything about safe dropping.”  
  
“Thanks so much,” Chloe said as sweetly as she could. “We just really want a clear picture of how things worked before your amazing programs smoothed out all the rough edges.”  
  
“Between you and me, they’re still pretty rough. Too much damned red tape these days.” She handed Chloe a folder. “I practically gotta fill out three forms in triplicate to get a kid shots, then deal with those idiots Jenny McCarthy sicked on the world, thinking all our vaccines are giving kids autism. Don’t even get me started…” She muttered as she led them to another room. “Copier’s in here. You drop them at my desk when you’re done.”  
  
“Thanks again.” Chloe dropped the folder on the counter when the nurse left. “Okay! You copy these, I’ll take…” She shuffled through the papers, grabbing the top half. “These.”  
  
“There’s one copier.”  
  
“I’m not copying them. I’m examining them.”  
  
He groaned, but got started. “I don’t see why we’re bothering copying them.”  
  
“We still have a story to put together. We’ll look at them later, see what we can use.”  
  
“And what are you looking for with those?”  
  
“A stamp.” She started thumbing through the papers. “Remember how I was up half the night? That wasn’t the coffee. It was the letters.”  
  
“The letters?”  
  
“S,O,P,N,A. I had to figure out what kind of name they fit into and wasted time going through so many databases of women in Metropolis, even ones who moved away since 1983, trying to find a match when I finally stepped back and looked at the whole.” She pulled out Tess’ vaccination record. “It wasn’t some name typed in. It was a stamp. You could see bits of a rectangle around it and how it’s slightly askew. And people don’t use stamps. So it must be some organization.” She held up one paper, examining it with her copy. “So if we can just look at other similar forms from the time,” she picked up another, “see if the lettering looks about the same as this, then…”  
  
“Oh, give me those. You copy.” Clark shooed her out of the way. “I can look faster than you.”  
  
She scoffed. “How exactly do you look faster?”  
  
He flipped through the papers so quickly, it made her a little dizzy. “I think this might be the one,” he said after bare seconds, holding one out.  
  
She stared at it, wide-eyed. “What is this? How do you know?”  
  
“You should know. After last year and the way you could take things in…”  
  
“Well, I had a supercomputer in my head. What’s your excuse?”  
  
“Well, it’s nothing that dramatic. Sometimes I can take things in quickly. You knew about this.”  
  
“No. You never told me you had a photographic memory.”  
  
“That’s what John called it. It’s not exactly. It’s just… sometimes I can take in large amounts of information at once.”  
  
She swatted him with her folder. “Then why were you always so borderline lazy in school, always goofing off with Pete?”  
  
“Because I was a teenager. Now will you look at this and tell me if it matches?”  
  
She finally took the page. “St. Louise’s Orphanage,” she read. “It does look a little like the same stamp.”  
  
“A little?”  
  
“Fine. A lot,” she said, still annoyed he’d found it so quickly. Then again, why? They could be getting closer. “It also makes sense. Whoever gave her up dropped her there and she was just taken here for routine shots.” She frowned. “Still, it doesn’t tell us much else. What if we go there and the trail goes cold?”  
  
“Now who’s naysaying? Why don’t we worry about that if it happens? Should we go right now?”  
  
“No. We still have all these stupid copies to make. Stupid story.”  
  
He laughed. “Complaining about work. I guess you have settled back in at The Planet.”  
  
“Yeah. I guess so.” She smiled just a little. “So what other abilities are you hoarding away?”  
  
“I wasn’t hoarding it. I just figured we must have talked about it at some point.”  
  
“When? It was always crisis to crisis after I knew your secret. And I put in a lot of work you could have gotten done faster. One of these days, we are going to sit down and catalog all your powers so I know how best to use you.”  
  
“You make me sound like a tool.”  
  
She laughed. “You said it, not me.” She glared at the copier as the light lumbered its way across another document. “Too bad you can’t make this speedier.”  
  
He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe technology will catch up with me… one of these days.”  
  
She picked up her folder and swatted him again.   
  
By the time they made it outside with heavier bags, he was smiling. “You know, we should probably take a cab there.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“St. Louise’s. It’s a lot farther than midtown. I mean, I could run it with you, but I feel like it’s an unnecessary risk with all the people out on lunch and…”  
  
“What? Today?” She started. “I mean, right now?”  
  
“We might as well get it over with.”  
  
“So now you’re all gung-ho on this?”  
  
“Well, you’re going to go ahead and do it no matter what I say. I think we might as well get it over with.”  
  
“Well, we need to plan for this part. Find the right questions for the right answers, make sure we ask things story related, but also get access to the good stuff,” she said quickly. “Besides, you just pointed out it’s lunch time.”  
  
“Fine. Lunch. You know, Bart says Olamendi’s has this extra hot…”  
  
“Oh, no. You can have a break from my spicy food today.” She gave his arm a pat as they walked on. “I’ll grab something and meet you back at The Planet. I have some errands to run on my lunch.”  
  
He stopped. “What kind of errands.”  
  
She stopped, as well. “Personal ones.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like… the kind that are personal.”  
  
“Why? Emil's taking care of you and you're not due for your sixteen week check-up until next Tuesday.”  
  
She crossed her arms and turned to him. “How do you know that?”  
  
“I asked him for a breakdown of your visits and meds. Oh, did you take your calcium yet?”  
  
She huffed and walked on. “Is there any aspect of my life you aren’t hovering over?”  
  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m actually looking out for you. Once again, you said it didn’t bother you…”  
  
“It doesn’t except for… when it does.” She stopped and whirled on him. “Clark, compared to the way things were last spring, I prefer this. I really do. But not all the time. I have no privacy. And that’s not even about you. I barely go anywhere without one of you in tow or do anything without one of you with me. I’ve got Emil as my doctor, Bart as my personal chef, Dinah picking out all my clothes, Oliver was pretty much handing out my allowance until I finally got a paycheck in. It’s like I’m a child and you… you’re the worst of all of them!”  
  
“Well, you can just… You… You can just get used it to it,” Clark finally finished. “Right now, you need me!”  
  
“I don’t need a nanny!”  
  
“This isn’t nannying.”  
  
“Fine, a mother hen!”  
  
“You just be glad I _haven’t_ told my mother about this,” he hissed. “That summer I lost my powers, she made me eat pounds of vegetables all the time and…”  
  
“Will you listen to me? I’m trying to tell you I need some space!”  
  
He sucked in a breath. “That’s where you’re going, isn’t it? You’re looking for an apartment.”  
  
She sighed, defeated. “Fine. I am. I have some listings that would fit my budget and… Clark, you – all of you – need to understand. I can’t live at Headquarters. I can’t even get my stuff out of storage to fit it in that little room.”  
  
“There’s always…”  
  
“Don’t tell me the farm. That’s even farther away from everything and I don’t like the idea of you running me to work or to Emil when my stomach’s out to… wherever. I know you worry, but do you really see me living there when… well, once…” She didn’t want to go there. She couldn’t even see what  _was_  there. “Clark, I don’t know what this next year is going to bring,” she said softly. “So I need to have some kind of security. I need to have something to be sure of, something of my own, some place to call my own. Don’t you see that?”  
  
He stared at her for a long time. “I do see that. I just…” He nodded. “I get it.”  
  
“Thank you. I’m just looking at one or two places over lunch. I mean, all I’m talking about is some walls and a kitchenette. And it’s not like I’m moving out of state. I’ll be right in the city.”  
  
“I get it,” he repeated.  
  
“It’s not like I’m not going to see you guys all the time. I mean, we still work together and…”  
  
“I said I get it,” he said tiredly.   
  
“Good.” She nodded and walked on.  
  
“So can I come with you?”  
  
***************  
  
“I think we have some good notes on safe drop, but we might have to hit a few more orphanages besides St. Louise,” Clark was saying as they made their way back to Headquarters. “That way when we bring it to Tess, it doesn't look like we're honing in on…”  
  
Chloe stilled. “What? Do you think she knows about St. Louise?”  
  
“No. But in case she does…”  
  
“Either way, we won’t need any forms for this,” she said, walking on. “It’s not like we could get into their records with anything short of a search warrant. I don’t think we’ll be treating that orphanage like any other. But you’re right about seeing a few others.”  
  
“I’m sure we can find time and even see those other apartments on lunch.”  
  
She stopped. “Oh, no. You are not coming with me.”  
  
“Why? I got you to each place quicker than you could have…”  
  
“Yes, you did. You also took each place apart, pointing out every little flaw, especially the last…”  
  
“There were rats in the walls! I saw them!”  
  
“So I set out some traps! This is the city. There are rats in all the walls.” She jabbed a finger at him. “And before you say how much better the country is, let me remind you about that whole family that made a nest in your old pickup.”  
  
“They were country rats,” he muttered. “They’re less… aggressive.”  
  
“I’m looking at the next ones by myself,” she said before walking away.  
  
“Fine, then. You don’t need me to tell you anything,” he said behind her.  
  
“Glad you agree.”  
  
“Not even that you’re passing Headquarters.”  
  
She stopped. “Well, I was… just going to take a look at the… First Federal Bank,” she said, gesturing across the street. “They got the Lion’s head back up.” She turned, looking around her nodding. “General repairs seem to be… looking good.”  
  
Clark chuckled. “Great cover.”  
  
“No. I’m serious. You’d hardly know anything happened here.” She looked up at that lion’s head again. She’d always thought it was majestic, like a remnant of when this neighborhood was beautiful. She’d hated seeing it lying in the street that awful night. It seemed mostly intact now, just a bit less regal with a few chips in its nose now. That night seemed to leave everything worse for wear.  
  
She pushed the night away, trying to slow her breathing. She tried not to think about that night. There was no point to it. She just had to move on, deal with now. She turned to the apartment building with its old stone and faded red awning. She bet a place like this had a doorman once, before the apartments were split in half, going from two-bed/two-bath to one beds with washer/dryer in building, no pets, wood… She stopped, realized she was just reading a sign at this point.  _For Rent._  
  
She’d only been looking in Midtown. She hadn’t thought of living here. She rarely even went this way, always going somewhere in the other direction. That was mostly because, if a person went too far down Hoff Street, they’d end up in Suicide Slums. But it wasn’t that bad here. She squinted at the sign. It was on the third floor. She could barely make out the tiny writing at the bottom.   
  
“Clark? Can you come here and read this for me?”  
  
“Are you putting me to use just like you threatened?” he huffed, but he shuffled over. “I’m not a tool, you know.”  
  
“Oh, it’ll take two seconds. There’s this sign on the third floor and I can’t make it out.”  
  
“For Rent,” he read. “One bedroom, one bath, W/D in building, no pets, wood…” He stopped and turned to her. “Chloe, no.”  
  
“Yeah. That’s where I got stuck, too,” she said, pretending he hadn’t said that last part. She just knew he’d have some problem with this place, too. “That tiny writing. Can you just give a little… super squint?”  
  
“This isn’t a good…”  
  
“Clark, just finish it for me?” She stared up at him, making her eyes as wide and pleading as possible.  
  
He sighed and turned back. “Wood floors, parking on premises, seven hundred plus util…”  
  
“That’s all I needed to hear,” she said, clapping her hands. “It’s in my range, it’s walking distance…”  
  
“It’s in a dirty, dangerous neighborhood,” Clark cut in.  
  
“Pfft! This neighborhood isn’t that bad.” In fact, now that she looked again, it had a certain old-school charm.  
  
“Chloe, Bart stopped a mugging here just last…”  
  
“This is the city. There are muggings every…”  
  
“Is that your answer for everything?”  
  
“Clark, I was down here all the time last year. More than that, I’m living right next door to this place as we speak.”  
  
“Headquarters is different,” Clark harrumphed. “We’ve got heightened security and… and a team of…”  
  
“And I’ll be right across the way from that team,” she said, getting more excited as she spoke. “I’m starting to think you’re going to have a problem with any place I look at, but this one’s perfect! Look! It’s a corner apartment, too.” She approached the alley. “So I can even wave goodnight from my window.” She laughed as she moved into the alley. “Hell, I can even drop by any time I want and…” She stopped laughing abruptly as her eyes moved down the wall. There was blood spattered on it, it looked fresh. She turned to Clark. “Did they even clean this up?” she asked dully.  
  
He squinted at her. “See? I told you this neighborhood was dirty.” He was dirty, too, dusty, clothes torn, bloody gashes everywhere.  
  
She looked back at the wall, then at the base. Blood was pooling, spreading. “So much blood.”  
  
“Blood?”  
  
“It’s all over.”   
  
"Chloe, there's no... Are you okay?"  
  
She turned back to Clark, but he wasn’t there. _It was Bart, holding a bloodied boy. "Damn it, Dollface! Stay back!"_  
  
_ She let out a whimper as Bart sped off, leaving Jimmy, grey and bleeding from his stump of a hand. _  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
_“I’m so sorry,” she moaned, feeling hot tears seeping from her eyes as Jimmy fell away, leaving only the Beast, advancing on her as she tried to back away. “No!” She knew this part. She hated this part. She knew why it was coming, not for Davis, but for her. And she didn’t want to think of why. She clutched her stomach and backed up. “You stay away from me,” she screamed._  
  
“Chloe, calm down.”  
  
_It was talking? How was it talking now? It’s… whatever it had in place of a mouth wasn’t even moving. Her back hit the wall._  
  
“Don’t you touch me,” she heard herself rasp, her voice deep, almost unrecognizable.  
  
“Chloe!”   
  
_It had her arms. She tried to rip away but she couldn’t. She pushed hard, knowing it was useless, knowing it had her now._  
  
“Chloe, you’re scaring me.”  
  
“No! Get off me!” she growled loudly, squeezing her eyes shut as she pushed. She heard a dull crunching noise and felt her arms freed. She let out a shaky breath and looked up. It was gone. There was only Clark, pushing himself out of a dent in the wall across from her. “How… what… what’s…” She couldn’t even speak, breathe, it suddenly seemed like a fight to keep standing. She gave up that fight as her legs buckled under her and she slid down the wall. Yet she didn’t hit the ground.  
  
“Chloe… Chloe…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure you all know what Chlark are going to find out about Tess, but I just have to get them there in a realistic way. 
> 
> You might have also guessed that Lex already knows. But I don’t want Tess to know just yet. I have my reasons.


	11. Chapter 11

_ _

_Then how should I begin  
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?  
And how should I presume?_

  
**Chapter 11**

  
  
It seemed like only seconds had passed before she opened her eyes. She started to tell Clark she was fine, but she choked on the words, knowing they’d be a lie. Also, he wasn’t there. The only thing above her now was the light grey ceiling in her room.   
  
“You’re awake.” It was a woman’s voice, not Dinah’s, too soft and slightly perky.   
  
“I guess so,” she croaked, turning her head. “Didn’t realize you moonlighted as a nurse, along with everything else.”  
  
Sarah Simms smiled and pulled her chair closer. “So you’ve been looking into me?”  
  
“Are you offended?”  
  
“Not at all. From all I know of you, you’re very protective of who comes near your friends. I can understand that. I know they feel the same way, which is why they’re all still obviously waiting in the hall,” she added loudly over her shoulder, “even though I told them I’d get them when you were ready.”  
  
Chloe heard a muffled thump on the other side of the door.  
  
“I just wanted to talk a little first,” Sarah went on, “about what happened.”   
  
“What did happen?” Chloe looked around, noticing there weren’t any wires on her. Her hands moved to her stomach. “Is anything wrong with…”  
  
“No, don’t worry.” Sarah stood and moved closer. “Emil looked you over. Everything’s okay.”  
  
“Even with… the…”   
  
Sarah peered closely at her. “The what?”  
  
“You know, the…” Chloe gestured down to her stomach.   
  
“ _Everything_  is okay,” Sarah repeated softly. “Two strong heartbeats.”  
  
Chloe let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay, then.”  
  
“Though it’s interesting how hard you find it to refer to your condition. I might want to talk about that later.”  
  
“Later?”  
  
Sarah just smiled. “Anyway, you are fine. All that happened, physically, was a little fainting spell, according to Emil, brought on by… Well, Clark didn’t tell everyone this. But he was the one who had Victor call me. He told me he seemed to think you were seeing things, hallucinating.”   
  
Chloe laid her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. The blood, the beast, poor Jimmy… She even imagined she’d shoved Clark into a wall. “So I’m fine… except for how I’ve gone insane.”  
  
“Believe me, you’re not insane. I may still be in school, but I’ve dealt with hallucinations, auditory and visual, phantom limbs,” Sarah said quickly. “You see, not all of the children I work with were born with their disabilities. Some of them went through traumatic experiences, things they need to deal with because, if they keep repressing…”  
  
“I’m not repressing anything,” Chloe cut in, sitting up. “I mean, I know what happened and… Well, I’m dealing with it every day.”  
  
“You’re dealing with physical repercussions, day to day living,” Sarah said gently, “and you seem to be doing great, but…”  
  
“I have. I’ve been fine.”  
  
“You’ve been going on adrenaline for years, earth-shattering thing to thing, not dealing with how you feel about any of it. Chloe, maybe I don’t know you well, but I know of you. I know some of the things you’ve been through even before this. At some point, you’re going to have to stop and deal with it or your mind and body will force the issue like today.” Sarah backed away slightly. “That’s all I really wanted to say. That and… Well, I do have some time if you want to discuss it once a week, maybe even more if…”  
  
“I don’t think…”  
  
Sarah put up a hand. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. I’m just putting it out there in case you…” Sarah shrugged and smiled as she sat down again. “Well, I’m just saying I’m here. That’s all.”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“All I want you do is think about it,” Sarah said lightly. “But I will say that Tuesdays and Thursdays work best for me, earlier in the morning the better. It’s just late morning, I’m in class, and afternoons with the kids, then I do three nights a week with veteran center. So, if you _were_ to think about it, then think about it as an early morning kind of thing. That’s all.”  
  
Chloe waited. “Is that really all?”  
  
Sarah laughed and folded her hands in her lap. “For real this time.” She nodded back to the door. “Are you ready to open the floodgates?”  
  
“Yes,” Chloe breathed, sitting up straighter. “I probably gave Clark a little scare, talking nonsense and fainting all over him.”  
  
“Maybe just a little,” Sarah said with a chuckle before turning to the door. “You can come…”  
  
The door flew open before she finished.  
  
Bart and Clark were the first through the door.   
  
Bart was, of course, the first to speak. “You’re good? No aches and pains?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Chloe sighed, her eyes sliding to Clark. “Just a little tired, maybe.”  
  
“You hungry? Emil’s thinking a little more iron, so I’m thinking steak and spinach for dinner. I’ll make it in a bit, but… You sure you’re okay?”  
  
“I’m okay,” she repeated, dazed, as Clark took her hand.  
  
“Great!” Bart perched on the side of the bed. “So Clark told me you were thinking of an apartment across the alley and you need to know that…”  
  
“Bart, not now,” Clark cut in.  
  
“What? Emil said she’s fine. She says she’s fine.” Bart leaned in. “Not to color your decision or anything, but you know those fake staircase bits? I do probably the best…”  
  
“Get out of here,” Oliver groaned, pulling at Bart. “Timing. Learn it.”  
  
“Fine,” Bart sighed. “We’ll talk over dinner,” he whispered before leaving.  
  
Oliver patted her shoulder. “Glad you’re up.”  
  
“How long was I out?”  
  
“Maybe an hour. Emil checked everything out and… I should go get him, actually.”  
  
“No need,” Doctor Hamilton said from the door, moving in as Dinah and Victor made way. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Just tired.”  
  
“I understand that. But I’d like you to eat something before you go to sleep. Also, I’ve been talking to Dinah about some light exercise, maybe swimming. I think it might help with your energy levels.”  
  
Dinah nudged Oliver. “Ollie here can get us into that fancy, indoor pool at The Grand. Well, not this second, but whenever…”  
  
“Guys, give her a minute,” Victor put in, moving closer, bumping into Sarah’s chair. “Oh, sorry.”  
  
“No, I’m sorry,” Sarah stood. “You know, I was just… sitting around like...”  
  
“Well, I bumped into you.”  
  
“Still, I…”  
  
“So the Doc says you’re okay,” Oliver said loudly. “Can’t say the same for the wall out there. Thanks, Clark.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes shot to Clark. “The wall? So I didn’t imagine…”  
  
“Yeah. Stupid me,” Clark cut in. “I just… over-corrected and fell right into it.”  
  
“No, Clark. I remember. I pushed you and…”  
  
“Yeah. You did a little and I stepped back too much and…” He smiled slightly. “I mean, like I said, I over-corrected and… you know, the…” He turned to Oliver. “I’m sorry about the wall. I can fix it myself if…”  
  
“No offense, Clark,” Oliver said tiredly, “but I’ve seen that tractor you’ve been working on for the last two years and it doesn't seem to work, so I’m thinking I’ll hire a pro. It’s no big deal. I’ve insured the building for,” he shrugged, “whatever I’ll explain this as, I’m sure.”  
  
Chloe glanced at Clark again, frowning. But he was smiling, also rubbing his thumb lightly across her palm. It felt nice. “I guess I… thought something different happened,” she finally said, trying for a smile. “It was strange, being in that alleyway again. Little overwhelming, I guess.”  
  
“I’m just glad you’re okay and the...” Clark glanced down at her stomach. “I’m glad that everything’s okay.”  
  
“Okay!” Sarah clapped her hands. “I gotta get to the vet’s center in about five seconds, but it was nice talking, Chloe.” She placed a card on the night stand and stared hard at Chloe. “I’m kind of hoping you’ll think about doing it again sometime.”  
  
Chloe nodded. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
**********  
  
“I’m just thinking about whether I should call now or wait till I get in and tell her.”  
  
“Tell who what?” Chloe asked, blearily. Clark had pretty much burst into her room with a bag and a drinks carrier and now he was talking? It was too early for this.  
  
“Tess. If I call you out, then you also have the weekend to recuperate and maybe on Monday… Aren’t you gonna eat your sandwich?”  
  
Chloe stared at the bag Clark had tossed in her lap. “I’m waiting to see if I’m actually awake.” She didn’t even want to imagine what her hair looked like. It tended to be everywhere in the mornings. She checked the silly urge to smooth it as Clark paced the room. “What are you going on about?”  
  
Clark pulled out his phone. “You know what? We’ll just call you out sick for Monday, too. Better safe than…”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, wait,” she breathed, sitting up and taking a sip of her precious half cup of coffee, closing her eyes as it slid down her throat. She opened them, focusing on Clark. “Okay. Why are you trying to call me out sick?”  
  
“Well, you need more rest.”  
  
“No. I need more iron and some exercise. That’s what Emil said. Besides, I just slept for God-knows-how-many hours straight… I think. I know I nodded off with Jeopardy.” She glanced at the window. “But it’s dark out. What time is it, anyway?”  
  
“Six,” Clark said sheepishly. “I was feeding the animals and… Well, I thought you might be hungry, too.”  
  
“It’s a nice thought,” she yawned. “Ungodly hour for it, though. But I guess I slept enough.”  
  
“Sorry. I was just worried after yesterday. I still am.”  
  
“So am I,” she said softly. “We didn’t get to talk much last night. With everyone around…”  
  
“Nobody gets to talk much around here,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Not when Bart’s around.”  
  
She pulled her sandwich out and toyed with the wrapper. “Thanks for not telling everyone about the… Well, me seeing things.”  
  
“I only told Emil and Sarah. I just didn’t think everyone else needed to know.”  
  
“I’m not sure how I feel about Sarah knowing.”  
  
“She’s a very nice…”  
  
“Clark, I’m not the biggest on talking about feelings in the first place. It's not my way. But to a stranger…”  
  
“I know she’s new to you. But we’ve known her around here for a while now. She’s really helped with… I mean, she’s helpful to have around.” He moved closer to the bed. “I heard you tell her you’d think about it.”  
  
“And I will. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go unload everything in my head on her.” She sat up. “Anyway, it’s Friday. We’ve got a lot to do for the weekend edition, not to mention our little side project…”  
  
“No. Chloe…” Clark perched on the edge of the bed. “I just told you. You don’t have to work today. I can handle querying the orphanages and…”  
  
“Clark, I want to work. And yesterday… It was just an episode, a little flashback. Maybe it was marginally horrifying, but I was standing in the place where it all went down for the first time since that night. I was probably due for a little PTSD moment.”  
  
He frowned. “Maybe if you can just take a half-day off…”  
  
She put up a hand. “I told you about the mother-hen thing.”  
  
“I’m not…”  
  
“I’m going to work. In fact, I’m going to work early… I guess. Now are you gonna go?”  
  
“Well, obviously, I…”  
  
“No. From the room, Clark.” She laughed. “Unless you’re looking for a peep show”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I’d kind of like to get dressed without an audience,” she clarified.  
  
He just stared at her. “Yeah. I get that,” he said, though he still hadn’t moved.  
  
“Clark?”  
  
He stood, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m going out there. You know, to wait. I’ll just… uh…” He gestured vaguely to the door before speedily putting himself on the other side of it.  
  
**************  
  
“I want it down the right side,” Tess said impatiently to her advertising editor. “That way people will have to look at it, even if only briefly, when they turn the page.”  
  
“But I promised banner space to Lacy’s Black Fri…”  
  
“And they’ll get it on the left,” Tess pointed out. “We’re not going to have many advertisers at all if we don’t keep circulation up. I want the new subscription rates front and center.”  
  
He smirked. “I thought you said down the right side.”  
  
She crossed her arms and stood back. “Do you like your job, Wallace?”  
  
He swallowed and tossed her a nervous laugh as he gathered the mock-up. “So I’ll just get this laid out and back to you before five.”  
  
She smiled. “You do that,” she said as he left. She didn’t drop it when he closed the door. It would be busy here all month. She was almost looking forward to it. As much as she’d been tossed into this situation, running The Daily Planet was the one aspect she almost enjoyed. It was, at least, more exciting than studying bacteria. Sometimes she wondered what life would be like if this was all she did, never having to think about Luthorcorp or the supernatural paranoia Lex seemed to be in the grip of. Just clear-cut work. No guards, no monitoring, no secrets, no Lex…  
  
As if on cue, her phone vibrated on her desk. Her smile dropped immediately. She wasn’t going to answer. After he spent all of yesterday avoiding her calls, she found herself less eager to take his. She picked it up and moved outside, toward the elevator.   
  
“I’m going down to graphics, Karen,” she called out as she pushed the down button. “I’m not sure I trust them on their own.”  
  
“Well. It’s nearly lunch. Did you want me to call out?”  
  
She wasn’t hungry, but she supposed she should. She turned to her before the doors closed. “You know, maybe just soup and salad. You decide what.” She glanced at the delivery man standing in front of the panel. “Could you press B, please?”  
  
“Could you do it yourself?” he sneered.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
He turned and pushed his sunglasses down. “So you do have your phone,” he drawled.  
  
“Lex.” She chuckled. “Of course. You don’t take my calls and I’m supposed to wait patiently. But God forbid I don’t take yours or I’m hunted down like...”  
  
“Yes. You’re very dramatic,” he said dismissively over her. “I wouldn’t have to come down here if you’d just pick up and answer a simple question. Now…”  
  
“I will if you will,” she muttered. “Of course, mine aren’t simple. In fact, I guess they’re hopelessly complicated and my poor, female brain isn’t ready to…”  
  
“Will you stop? Why isn’t she here?”  
  
She was tempted to ask who, but afraid he’d stop the elevator. She really did have a damned lot to do today. “She’s off with her boyfriend.” She narrowed her eyes. “And how do you know she isn’t here? Are you tapping into my security feed?”  
  
“No. I trust you completely,” he said with a smirk. “Of course I am. Where are they?”  
  
“They’re on a story. They were querying some organizations. Something about orphans and disabled children and the holidays,” she said quickly, “and why are you so curious about it now? The other day, you were acting like it didn’t even matter if I listened in and…”  
  
“Never mind that. How did she seem?”  
  
“Fine.” Tess shrugged. “Normal. We didn’t talk much. She hasn’t admitted her condition, if that’s what you want to know. I’m not sure what it’s going to take. Maybe she’ll admit it when she starts showing in earnest. It’s not as if I can ask her to pee on a stick. Hmm. Now that I think about it, a mandatory drug test is allowed under…”  
  
“Don’t bother,” Lex cut in. “We know and that’s all that matters." Lex frowned. “I guess I thought she might call out after... I just don’t like not knowing what she’s doing. Maybe it might have to go down sooner,” he said, almost under his breath. “Maybe not. Maybe after the new year. I’ll reassess according to…”  
  
“Lex?”  
  
He glanced up, as if he’d forgotten she was there.   
  
“What’s going down? What are you planning on doing?” she whispered as the doors opened on the basement.  
  
“Nothing right now. That’s all you need to know,” he said as got off.  
  
She followed, then stopped, staring after him. At the moment, she didn’t even want to know. The idea made her feel queasy.  
  
“Ms. Mercer?” She turned to find Frank, standing with a donut.   
  
She gave him a tight smile. “I see you’re working frantically.”  
  
“I was just taking a sec to…”  
  
“I really don’t care as long as you don’t drip jelly all over the copy. Now will you get in there? I’d like to put this paper to bed on time for a change.” She pushed Lex from her mind as she followed Frank into his office. She had a paper to run, employees to berate, and maybe a jelly donut if there were any left. She had to have some enjoyment in life.  
  
***************  
  
“Just have some,” Clark tried.   
  
“Are you punishing me? What did I do to deserve this?”  
  
“What? They’re really good for you.”  
  
“They’re beets, Clark. There is only one reason to eat beets and that’s punishment.” She shuddered. “My dad used to threaten me with them. That and liver and onions.”  
  
“Liver. Ugh. Beets aren’t as bad as that. I didn’t like them when I was a kid, either, but they grow on you. I mean, in a salad, you can hardly taste them.”  
  
“I don’t know how much of that salad you can taste, anyway,” she said around a mouthful of her pasta. “with all that ranch dressing.”  
  
Clark shrugged. “At least it’s healthy.”  
  
She scoffed loudly. “I will bet you anything my pasta has less calories than your… dressing soup.”  
  
“I don’t want to take any more of your money,” he mumbled, “after you just  _had_  to buy lunch.”  
  
“Well, you brought me breakfast. It’s only fair.”  
  
“Yeah, but that was a two-dollar sandwich. This place is kind of nice.”  
  
“Clark, the menu has pictures. It’s not that nice. Besides, you’re always bringing me coffee and tea. I don’t like feeling like I owe you.”  
  
“Then don’t. I don’t feel like you owe me.” He smiled. “Besides, I kind of like doing little things”  
  
She fought a smile and lost. “You mean fussing over me. Like a mother…”  
  
“Stop calling it that. It’s… the manly version of that.”  
  
She laughed. “Well, there aren’t any father hens. And it’s not very rooster-like.”  
  
“You don’t know that for sure. I’m the one with the farm.”  
  
“Then again, you did wake me at the crack of dawn today, so maybe…”  
  
“Why don’t we call it taking care of you?” he cut in. “And I like it, so let me.”  
  
She dropped her smile just a little. He sounded so damned earnest. It made it hard to even tease him. “I guess you told me.”  
  
“Don’t you forget it.”  
  
She laughed and shook her head. “So what are we going to do about St. Louise?” They’d been to The West Side Center RTC, Hillsides Group Home, and Olive Crest Manor, all of which called themselves anything but an orphanage. She supposed the term was a bit old school and the process a bit different these days. The West Side Center was closer to a hospital whereas Hillsides and Olive Crest seemed like boarding schools.   
  
They’d even had a guided tour of those last two. There were moments that were hard for Chloe, looking at those kids, the teens in particular, wondering whether they’d be staying there until they reached eighteen or in the foster care system like Davis had been. Then she wondered where they’d go after, with no loving parents sending them off to college. Then she wondered where Davis was now. Then she wondered if she should try to find him, so he’d know. Then she wished to do anything but that.   
  
She pushed the thought away as Clark spoke.  
  
“They opted out of an interview.” Clark toyed with his salad. “Not much we can do. Besides, we have enough for the story with the others. Maybe more than enough.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like we were there for the story,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand. “The story was just a way to get there.”  
  
“Maybe we don’t need to get there at all.”  
  
She dropped her fork. “Yesterday, you wanted to rush right there, today you’re happy they said no?”  
  
“Well, yesterday was different. I guess I thought, if we could get this done and satisfy your curiosity, then things could go back to normal.”  
  
“When have we ever had normal?”  
  
“Never. Sometimes I wish we could see what it’s like. But today…” He sighed. “Chloe, seeing those kids. Even in the richer places like Olive Crest, it was tough, looking at them and the idea that they were there in the first place, that they weren’t adopted right out because they were older. And I know it was tough on you, too. I saw you wipe your eyes a few times.”  
  
“Maybe I was just hormonal,” she mumbled.  
  
“Tess told me a few things about life after and that was even worse for her and… I don’t know. Sometimes I think she’s been through enough.”  
  
“So you want to drop it?”  
  
“No. I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel.” He sat back. “Maybe if we just postponed it a little.”  
  
“You want to mothball this now? Clark, we’re so close.”  
  
“I’ve been thinking about it all morning. It feels so intrusive. I mean, we’ve been dealing fine with Tess. Apart from the monitoring, she’s not bothering us.”  
  
“Talk about intrusive. She’s monitoring us! You say that like it’s normal!”  
  
“Maybe it is for Tess! I mean, she didn’t have a normal life and the normal didn’t exactly set in when she got here, either. The fact is, we’re doing okay with her and I don’t want to rock the boat. Besides, even the story will have more impact closer to Christmas and Thanksgiving’s coming next week. There’ll be enough news to deal with on Black Friday alone, not to mention how busy I might have to be with… you know. Oliver wants every hand on theft prevention patrol in as many cities as we can hit. You know how people pull crazy stunts to get the latest big thing around Black Friday, like when that truck rammed into the Apple store and…”  
  
“I get it, I get it,” Chloe cut in. She took a deep breath. “I’m not saying you don’t have a point. But, Clark, I don’t want to give up on this.”  
  
“I’m not saying to. I’m just saying we can let it lie for a few weeks.”  
  
She stared at him. He hadn’t been on board from the first. She started to wonder if she could tell him she was willing to let it lie, but still investigate on her own. Then again, she wasn’t sure how successful she’d be without him and his powers on board. He was probably thinking he could convince her to drop it entirely in a few weeks. But she could just as easily get him to see things her way in that time. “Okay.”  
  
He sat up straighter. “Just like that?”  
  
“Well, we will be pretty busy. And I need time to figure out what to do about St. Louise. Their records aren’t digital and it’s not like I’m going to sneak in late at night with a pen light like I’m a teenager again.” She glanced down. “It’s not like it’s easy for me to hide these days.”  
  
“You know, you’re not big. Even Dinah said… that thing she said,” he finished on a mumble, suddenly reaching for his iced tea. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Good. This is better. You know, we’ll talk to Tess about waiting till the week before Christmas and… You know, this’ll free up some time. You’ll probably want to go looking at more apartments or something today.”  
  
“Why would I bother doing that?” She picked up her fork.   
  
He let out a long breath. “Oh, good. You’re finally dropping that? I mean, I know you want more space, but..”  
  
“I still do. And I’m pretty sure I already found it.”  
  
He looked up, scowling. “Chloe… no.”  
  
***********  
  
“Definite yes,” she said when the building manager stepped out. “I mean, it needs a paint job, but the floors are in good condition.”  
  
“It’s too small,” Clark grunted from the corner.   
  
“It’s bigger than where I am now. It’s as big as the place at The Talon, at least. I can finally get my stuff out of storage.” She moved to the middle of the room. “My throw rug could go right here.” She took a few steps. “And my couch here.” She moved to the bedroom doorway. “It’s a tiny bedroom, but at least it’s a separate room.” She moved to the street side. “Look, it’s even got a little nook.”  
  
Clark followed her. “Very little nook.”  
  
“It’s not that little. It’s almost like having another room.”  
  
He was still frowning, but he moved into it, ducking his head at the slanted ceiling. “I guess you could get a desk in here --- like a little office or something.”  
  
“Or something,” she said softly, staring at the space, thinking if it could be for something else entirely. And she couldn’t believe she was thinking it. But she could almost see a mobile with tiny ducks or bears hanging from the slanted ceiling. But she kept that to herself. She had such a hard time knowing how she felt about the future that she didn’t dare discuss it, not even with Clark.  
  
She took a deep breath moved to the alley-side window and stared across. She didn’t dare look down. She was too afraid of all the things she might see. “I’m going to have to take it. You heard Bart. He does a killer fake stairs. It’s like I have no choice,” she said, forcing a laugh.  
  
She felt Clark behind her. “Chloe, what about yesterday?”  
  
“Yesterday, I was in in a place with horrible memories. This is a place that… Well, I have no idea what the memories will be. That could be a good thing.” She nodded and turned to him. “The only question is…” She stared around, then landed on him. “Are you handy with a paint brush and willing to be paid in pizza?”  
  
He chuckled and pulled her in. She hugged him back hard, thinking of how safe it always made her feel. Maybe it would all be okay as long as he came around. She almost wanted to make him promise he would, every day, almost wanted to tell him to never, ever stop fussing over her, wanted to tell him about that nook and what she’d have to make it into in the next five months. But she didn’t. She just held on tight, trying to feel safe.  
  
Later that night, Chloe had a staring contest with her phone… and lost.  
  
“Hi. I hope you don’t mind me just calling like this. But… I think I really do need to talk to someone.”  
  
“Who is this?”  
  
“It’s Chl…”  
  
“No. I know. I was kidding.” Sarah laughed. “I was hoping you’d call.”  
  
“I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t. I’ve never done anything like this before. I mean, I spend so much time keeping secrets that talking openly seems too weird for words.”  
  
“I can understand that. Would it help if I made muffins?”   
  
“You bake, too?”  _God, the woman really was a saint!_  
  
“Just for the kids. But they never touch my cranberry orange muffins and, little secret of my own,” she said on an exaggerated whisper, “those are my best ones.”  
  
“I guess muffins always help.” Chloe found herself smiling.

****************

_Would it have been worth while,  
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,   
To have squeezed the universe into a ball   
To roll it toward some overwhelming question…_

****************

“So how does this work?” Chloe breathed, trying to get comfortable on the couch that had long been crammed in her room. It was more of a love seat and she may be short, but not so much that she could lay down without feeling ridiculous. “Do you show me ink blots and talk about my dreams or…”  
  
Sarah laughed. “No. I personally consider the Rorschach test as no more than pseudoscience. I just prefer to start off by talking. It’s not much more complicated than that. And… Well, you don’t have to lie down for it unless you really want to.”  
  
“Good.” Chloe sat up. “I was about to take the bed and that would feel too… psych ward for me.”  
  
“Well, I’d like to go ahead and say that I’m not fitting you for a straight jacket.”  
  
Chloe stared at her hands. “That’s a relief,” she said on a hollow laugh. For a moment, she thought back to high school, to how this very thing terrified her, as if even the idea of spilling her guts to a stranger meant that she was halfway to becoming her mother. Of course, she now knew more about her mother, knew that it was fear of her power that put her in her catatonic state. But wasn’t it still the same thing? She couldn’t handle her situation without locking herself inside her own mind. Sometimes Chloe wondered, with every horrible thing that happened, which one would be the one that would send her there.  
  
“You’re thinking hard,” Sarah said softly. “I wish you’d share some of it with me.”  
  
Chloe met her eyes, then quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about her mother. That was so tied up with guilt. Hadn’t she been shut away in Star City, Oliver footing that bill among many others? And had Chloe been to see her? No. She’d been bouncing from crisis to crisis and… But wasn’t that the problem? Maybe she should start with all the crises or maybe…  
  
“Any words will do,” Sarah prodded gently.  
  
“I’m trying to figure out the right way to start.”  
  
“There’s no perfect way. You can just talk about now. Tell me how you’re doing right now. Like we’re just,” Sarah shrugged and smiled, “old friends catching up.”  
  
“Well, I… I’ve got a lot going on right now. Work, nailing down the new place, obviously the… Well…”  
  
“The pregnancy?” Sarah put in gently.  
  
“Yes. That… that, too.”  
  
“But let’s put that aside for now as I think you want to. You mentioned dreams. Is that something you want to talk about?”  
  
“Actually, no. I mean, not that I wouldn’t if I had any, but I…” She stopped, blinking several times. “I haven’t been dreaming.” She heard scribbling and looked up at Sarah. “I thought this wasn’t going to be on some kind of record.”  
  
“It isn’t. I’m not taking these with me,” Sarah said, still writing. “I’m leaving them with you and you can do what you want with them. Read them over, destroy them…”  
  
“B-but why are you writing that down?” Chloe said breathlessly. “Is me not dreaming some kind of red flag or…”  
  
“No.” Sarah rested her pen on her pad and looked up. “It’s just a thought I have. Dreams… Well, there are a lot of theories about dreaming and what it means, what it does for us. But, unless you had a severe head injury, which Doctor Hamilton would have found, you are dreaming. You’re just not dealing with it. Maybe even protecting yourself… or someone else. I’m not sure you even know you’re doing it.”  
  
Chloe found her hand moving to her stomach and quickly stopped it, standing up. There was still something about Sarah that was putting her off, this fear of doing or saying anything, of what she’ll read into it – as if Sarah really was fitting her for that straight jacket, but afraid to say so.  
  
“I feel like I’m upsetting you,” Sarah said. “We can stop here for now.”  
  
“Why just for now?” Chloe moved to the window, stared at that chipped Lion’s head again. “I mean, I know what happened. I had a little waking nightmare and I’ll just… I’ll… avoid certain areas until after… after…”  
  
“Chloe, I’m not sure why you’re afraid of me. Really, I don’t want you to see me as the enemy. I’m not going to force you to confront things you aren’t ready to.” She heard movement, then Sarah’s voice just a little closer. “We can take this as slow as you need to, but I think you need this, someone to talk to who’s outside of everything. I know how it can be with people close to you, they might tend to think it’s their fault if you’re not perfectly happy or that they should be doing something to fix it.”   
  
If that didn’t sum up Clark, and even the rest of them to some extent, she wasn’t sure what did.  
  
“The bottom line is that you need to start facing what happened with something less than… stalwart silence. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to take time…”  
  
“So what do you want me to do?” Chloe whirled on her. “Stop everything and cry all day long?”  
  
“No. I think you should keep moving on,” Sarah said calmly. “But I also think you should take some time to deal with what you’ve been through and… well, with what you think you may go through in the months to come.” Sarah moved closer, not enough to make Chloe feel trapped, but just enough to let her know that there was nowhere else to look. “I know some of the things that have happened to you. I also know that night was particularly traumatic. You seem to think you should be able to shrug it off. And maybe that’s been how you’ve coped for some time now. But you can’t keep doing that.”  
  
“I wasn’t the only one there that night. The others aren’t hallucinating and fainting all the…”  
  
“You can’t compare the two. They had three months on you. You woke up and were hit with a lot of things at once. And it almost seems like you’ve been frantic to catch up, keeping busy to avoid…”  
  
“I am legitimately busy.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t time.” Sarah gave her a small smile. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel or how to deal with those feelings. I just want you to start acknowledging you have them, whatever they are. Also… Well, I don’t know you, really, but I know a lot about you and all you’ve gone through. Whatever you feel, I have faith that you will handle it in a healthy way. There’s so much strength in you.”  
  
Chloe held her gaze, not sure what to say to that.   
  
Sarah sighed and moved away. “Look at me, doing all the talking. Maybe next time, I’ll let you got a word in,” Sarah picked up her notepad and tore that first page off, “If there will be a next time.” She met Chloe’s eyes with a small smile.  
  
Chloe stared back for a long time before returning it. “Well, you did bring muffins.”  
  
Sarah laughed and placed that page on the small end table as she picked up her purse. “Next time, I can bring some coffee.”  
  
“I can’t…”  
  
“I mean, decaf. I know of one that’s so strong, it might as well be the real thing.”  
  
Chloe laughed. “Someone’s clued you in on me.”  
  
“Well, you hear things.”  
  
Chloe didn’t read that bit of paper when Sarah left, but she did put it in her pocket before she went right to Emil in the medical bay. It was a Saturday and at least three days early for her check-up, but he “just wanted to take inventory, with what happened last week.”  
  
“I thought it was just a little faint.”  
  
“It was. But you can never be too careful.”  
  
“I know I’m already getting more attention than most women in my condition,” she sighed, taking her shoes off and stepping onto the scale. “I guess you’re spoiling me.”  
  
“Yes. You lucky thing,” he said dryly. “While we go… Are you feeling nauseated?”  
  
“Not as much.”  
  
“Are you feeling the baby move a lot?” he asked, making notes on his little chart.  
  
“Not a whole lot. Just… flutters, I guess, especially when I’m laying down.”  
  
“Have you been leaking fluid or had any vaginal spotting or bleeding?”  
  
“No. Not spotting. But some… milky fluid. Is that…”  
  
“It’s very normal, but we can talk it over in a moment. Have you felt any contractions?”  
  
Her eyes widened. “Of course not. Does that even happen this early?”  
  
“Some women experience Braxton Hicks contractions in this trimester. If they do happen, it’s usually just your muscles warming up or discomfort, so if they get uncomfortable, talk to me and I can see about the cause. Sometimes it’s just tension or dehydration… Oh. Speaking of that, did you drink a glass of water before coming down?”  
  
“My favorite part,” Chloe grumbled, stepping off.   
  
“One day medicine will invent something less messy than the cup,” he said on a chuckle. “It’s a shame I don’t have any,” he muttered, looking over his shelves. “I think I’ve got some boxes that were just delivered in my office. Be right back,” he said, moving to the door.  
  
She lifted herself onto the table, debated putting on a gown. But she doubted Emil was going to do anything more than make her pee into a cup today, which was always bad enough. It was a good thing she hadn’t started as someone other than Emil knocked on the door frame.  
  
“Sorry to intrude, but I was hoping to catch you while you were still dressed,” John Jones said briskly.  
  
“Don’t worry. I don’t thinking I’m dropping them today. Hi.”  
  
He sauntered in. “I just wanted to stop by after work. I heard about what happened yesterday.”  
  
“As you can see, I’m alright. Emil’s just looking me over.”  
  
Jones seemed to be doing the same. “If I may say, you are looking less green these days.”  
  
“Is that even a compliment coming from you?”  
  
“Of course. You might even say you’re getting that glow they always talk about.”  
  
She let out a breath of laughter. “Well, there’s your silver lining in all this.”  
  
“Well, I know it’s not the ideal situation. But I do want to say that I’m… Well, I try not to intrude, read people without permission, but you seem to be dealing well with extraordinary circumstances. I hope you know that.”  
  
She didn’t. In fact, her earlier talk with Sarah had her tense and nervous about the talks to come. Then again, if she were to look back at what Sarah had said, there wasn’t anything to fear in it.  
  
 _Whatever you feel, I have faith that you will handle it in a healthy way. There’s so much strength in you._  
  
“Thanks for that,” she said softly, having nothing better to say. “So they’re making you work all night? That seems cruel.”  
  
“Well, I requested it,” Jones said with a smile. “I’m a night person. And that’s where the action is anyw…” He stopped, furrowing his brow.  
  
“What?”  
  
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
“John, are you okay? Is it one of those headaches?”  
  
“I’m afraid so.” He rubbed at his temple. “It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it is very uncomfortable. I can’t think what’s causing it.”  
  
Chloe stared at him, wondering if she could. She’d witnessed a few of these by now. And they always seemed to happen when she was around. Her hand dropped to her stomach. She almost didn’t want to say it, but the idea that she could, without even meaning to, be hurting him…  
  
She didn’t have to say it as Emil sailed in with a box at that moment.   
  
“There. These should be enough to last even beyond… Oh, good morning, Detective Jones.”  
  
“Doctor Hamilton,” he grunted.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“Just a small headache.”  
  
“Yes. Oliver said you were having these occasional bouts.” Emil put the box down and moved to John. “You know, I have some time before my shift. I could take a sec and…”  
  
“I don’t have time. I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. I should just get to bed.” John shook his head and moved to the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take the long way home. Little fresh air.” He gave Chloe a pained smile in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”  
  
“I’m sorry you’re not,” she called after him. Very sorry. Maybe even a little afraid she was causing it. Maybe having her own place would be good for more than her.  
  
“Well!” Emil handed her a cup, then picked up his chart again, absently clicking his pen as he stared at it. “Why don’t you go ahead and fill that up and then we can talk about vaginal discharge.”  
  
“Oh, rapture,” she sighed, moving to the little washroom.  
  
She stilled just before the door, debated telling Emil about John’s headaches, about whether she was the cause. But, with all the equipment around here, the idea that something that didn’t even weigh a full pound could be causing this seemed far-fetched.  
  
In the end, she just shut herself in and dropped her pants. She leaned over, picking up the scrap of paper that had fallen out. She took a deep breath and opened it to Sarah’s looping scrawl.  
  
 _Dreams – mind processing input, Jie Zhang theory may apply, look up when have time_  
  
That was all it said. Chloe almost laughed. Homework. Here she was, thinking this scrap of paper held the answer to her sanity and Sarah was giving her homework.  
  
 


	12. Chapter 12

 

_“Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays,_ ” Bart sang loudly along with Perry Como, “ _cause no matter how far away you roam…_ ”  
  
“Bart, will you turn that off?” Oliver called out. “It’s only Thanksgiving, for crying out loud.” He grunted as he pushed one table to meet another. “Why does every city have a station that plays nothing but Christmas music a whole month before it even happens?”  
  
“I like it,” Bart said from the kitchen. “Gets me in that festive, cooking mood.”  
  
“Then you do what you need to, my little dynamo,” Dinah yelled before nudging Oliver. “Stop bothering him. It helps him cook. We need him to cook! He hasn’t even asked for our help! Are you trying to ruin this meal?”  
  
“For God’s sake, Dinah, eat something,” Oliver hissed.  
  
“Not until it’s turkey,” she said with great determination. “And stuffing. Cranberry sauce made from real cranberries…”  
  
“What?” Clark dropped the table cloth he was taking out of its package. “What about the canned? Do we still get canned?”  
  
“Who wants canned? I thought you were a farmer,” Dinah scoffed.  
  
“I’m not exactly. I mean, I just keep up the household animals now. Anyway, my dad was always more…” He shook his head. “It’s cranberry sauce. It’s supposed to be can shaped with little slices.”  
  
“As long as there are whipped potatoes,” Oliver said, “I don’t care what else is on my plate.”  
  
“Whipped? So that was your doing?” Dinah groaned. “The best is smashed, with a little skin and chives. Back me up, Chloe.”  
  
Chloe shrugged. “Don’t look at me. My dad always did instant. And some kind of loaf that I think might have been turkey.”  
  
“You poor kid!”  Dinah gasped.  
  
She’d never thought of it that way. Then again, where was her dad these days? Did she resent him for being so spectacularly uninvolved in her life since she hit eighteen? Chloe shook it off. Her sessions with Sarah had her digging into every word out of her mouth, even more than Sarah. Chloe laughed it off, saving it for later. “I don’t know. I never put much stock into the meal, not until I had Thanksgiving at your mom’s the first time,” she said glancing at Clark.  
  
“Well, my mom is undeniably the best…”  
  
“Don’t say that,” Dinah whispered loudly. “You’ll make him nervous!”  
  
“It’s not like she’s coming here to criticize,” Clark said, pacing to the door suddenly. “When’s she getting here, anyway? I knew I shouldn’t have let Victor get her. They’re probably stuck in traffic.”  
  
“Better that than you rushing her here so your poor mother has to spend most of the meal picking bugs out of her teeth,” Oliver snorted.  
  
“That’s not true. Chloe, tell him that’s not…”  
  
“No comment,” Chloe muttered. Running with Clark had a speed advantage, sure, but it definitely had drawbacks, especially at ground-level. She stiffened as Jones came in. “I’d better see if Bart needs any help,” she said quickly, rushing into the kitchen.  
  
“Avoiding the question,” Oliver called out. “That should tell you something, Clark.”  
  
 _More like avoiding John._  She still wasn’t sure that she was doing something to cause his headaches. But she thought it was best she keep her distance just in case. The worst part was that, even with all the complications, this pregnancy was progressing normally and she hated those reminders that it might be anything  _but_  normal.  
  
Most times, she tried not to look back on those nights with Davis. He was nowhere to be found and there seemed to be no point. But which night had done it? Was it one of the calm ones, where she simply gave in to the attractive man lying beside her? Or was it another night, one where the Beast was so close to the surface and every touch was filled with fear and determination?  
  
She pushed the nights away as she stared at Bart, zipping from end to end of the kitchen. “Need any help?” she asked rather dizzily.  
  
He stopped. “Dollface! No, but I’m glad you’re here. Remember how I told you about my window bits. Well, I’ve been working on them and here’s a little preview.” He put down a large bowl and moved around the counter. “Now, this will be even better in a window, just for the theatricality, but check it out…” He straightened up behind the counter and turned so he was in profile. “Hmm. It seems I’m out if potatoes. I think I’ll go down to the cellar for more.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. It was a tired routine, but she did laugh as he disappeared behind the counter, if only for his sake.  
  
“Nope. None down here. I guess they’re upstairs. This time I’ll take the escalator.”  
  
She chuckled as he did, even doing the watch-check. “Very impressive.”   
  
“Still can’t find them. Maybe the sub-basement. Of course, I’ll have to take the elevator, so…”  
  
“I get the gist.” She held up a hand. “Save some for the window.”  
  
“I will. By the time you get that place fixed up, it will be flawless.”  
  
“Me? I’m not doing much of the work.” All she’d really done was pack up all but the essentials in her little room. Oliver had been ready to hire someone for even that when Chloe pointed out that they didn’t need outsiders inside the building. But he had convinced her to have the same people repairing the wall outside do some essentials in her new place -- electrical work, patch-ups -- and insisted it was a housewarming gift. Clark had been annoyed by that. Clark seemed annoyed by this entire thing whereas Oliver seemed perfectly fine with her getting a place, especially one so close by.  
  
Clark did seem to be letting up, though. Maybe his annoyance had to do with the fact that he seemed to want to do just everything for her these days. It had helped that she told him she trusted no one but him to paint it.  
  
“Hey, while you’re here,” Bart was saying as he brandished a baster, “can I get a head count? What’s the status here?”  
  
“Well, John just got here. Mrs. Kent and Victor are on their way...”  
  
“Victor doesn’t count,” Bart grumbled, “with his stupid, limited robot diet, he can’t truly appreciate my artistry. Go on.”  
  
“There's me, Clark, Ollie, Dinah…”  
  
“My best customer.”  
  
“Emil’s out of town.”  
  
“What? This was not run by _me_!”  
  
“He went to spend it with his family. I thought you knew.”  
  
“But I cooked for more than a measly seven…”  
  
“You’re forgetting you.”  
  
Bart smiled. “Oh yeah. I count for at least three.” He frowned heavily and looked around. “Come to think of it, maybe there’s not enough.”  
  
Chloe glanced at the industrial-sized oven and the turkey that took up most of it. “I think we’ll be fine.”  
  
“Eh, you’re right. Dessert can fill in all the empty spaces.”  
  
***********  
  
 _Too much space for one person,_  Tess thought, staring at the long dining table on her little walk through the mansion. The weekly – she’d long since done away with having daily staff – cleaning crew had decorated yesterday. She supposed they just considered it part of their duties. Fake cornucopias, patterned burnt orange cloths and autumn floral arrangements on every table, the same as they had done last year. She hadn’t enjoyed it much then, either. She’d never cared much for holidays.   
  
Growing up, most of them were spent on eggshells, wondering what kind of drunk Dad was going to be this time. Would it be the cheerful, all-the-ice-cream-you want drunk or the kind that made her want to hide under the basement stairs? And she’d been terrified of the basement, so that was saying something.  
  
Still, she sometimes wondered if Lex’s holidays had been any better, growing up in a sprawling mansion, probably much like this one, long ago. He didn’t talk about it much. He had talked about a rather tense Thanksgiving with Lana Lang spent at this very table and she’d actually wondered if they’d have had a nicer time if they’d just eaten at something where they could speak without shouting across the vast distance.  
  
Sometimes she thought the answers to all of Lex’s problems were painfully obvious. Upset with distance from your wife? Don’t have separate rooms. Annoyed with your father controlling you? Move out of his house. Stop working for his company. Being left out of secrets got you down? Just stop caring. She even understood it, that need to know, the anger at being lied to. In fact, he was giving her even more experience there. And sometimes she had to ask “why?” What did it matter? What did it give her?  
  
So Clark had abilities. As near as she could see – and she was seeing it more clearly these days – he wasn’t using them to rule the world. He easily could. The Blur might have been spotted outside Metropolis lately, but he seemed to be stopping thieves and rescuing daredevil teens from their own folly just as he did here. More than that, the more time she spent listening in on his innocuous conversations with Chloe, the less she saw to fear in him.   
  
Truth be told, she’d never feared Clark, not from the start. Maybe it was because she met him by way of him saving her life. Then again, Lex had met him the same way and look how things had twisted from there! And she could admit, if only for Lex’s sake, that Clark had a part in this, always lying, always guarding his secret. But then another part of her wondered what gave Lex the right to know. Because he was rich? Because he was, arguably, more intelligent?  
  
She sighed, hearing it echo as she moved down the hall. This whole situation was too big for one person.  
  
Lex was out of town, had been for three days now. She was glad of it, except for how he’d spoken of Thanksgiving and how she’d love the fancy chestnut stuffing from this old Metropolis standby his father would order from. Was it Sidney’s, Dorsey’s… something like that. It didn’t matter because he wouldn’t be here. And she was fine with that. She hadn’t celebrated a holiday outright since leaving home.  
  
Her phone buzzed in her robe’s pocket and she pulled it out, almost anxious to find Lex’s number pop up with a text. Knowing what he was after hadn’t exactly helped her mood. In fact, this past week, she’d found herself relieved, the less she heard from him, tossing herself into work at The Planet as the idea of keeping watch on Sullivan’s womb didn’t sit right with her.  
  
 _Just stop caring._  She supposed it was easier said than done. She opened the text.  
  
 _Dinner delivered. Clancy’s. Penthouse. Be there._  
  
Clancy’s. So that was it. She was tempted to text back that she had other plans – such as not acknowledging this day at all. But who was she kidding? She might enjoy a little chestnut stuffing and pie… even today.  
  
***********  
  
“Really, I’m stuffed,” Chloe groaned.  
  
“Oh, just try a little of the yams. You didn’t have any,” Martha said from her right, spooning some onto her plate. “And they are just packed with nutrients. They’re really like a superfood.”  
  
Clark snorted from her left. “I hate that word. I also hate yams.”  
  
“You hate everything that’s not a sandwich,” Martha chided before leaning into Chloe. “Don't listen to him. He’s been using his special… constitution to get out of eating vegetables for years.”  
  
“That’s not true. I ate salad for lunch just last week – only salad – with beets. Chloe, tell her about the salad.”  
  
Chloe hid a laugh in her napkin before turning to Martha. “It’s true Mrs. Kent. There were actual beets in it.” Also mounds of dressing, but his mother didn’t have to hear that part.  
  
“How about that?” Martha leaned over the table to beam at Clark. “You’re growing up.” She turned her attention back to Chloe. “But you really should try these. Bart’s done some wonderful things with the yams and the butternut squash…”  
  
Bart cleared his throat from the other end of the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”  
  
Martha chuckled. “I was just telling Chloe about the vegetables, about how everything side dish is like its own special entrée. I truly feel like I’ve had a gourmet, catered meal.”  
  
Of course, Martha hadn’t been saying that, but Bart seemed to need to hear it, with how he’d been asking everyone to give him more adjectives every time they grunted that it was good with their mouths full. Martha had truly stepped up with that, with the way Bart rushed to get her some more wine. Of course, Martha Kent always seemed to be there with just what a person needed.   
  
“You’re still too skinny,” she whispered to Chloe.   
  
 _Case in point._  
  
“Have you even tried the squash? It’s…”  
  
“Mrs. Kent, please…”  
  
“I told you. Call me Martha. You’re not a kid anymore.”  
  
“Martha, then,” she said on a laugh. “I don’t think I can eat any more, as in physically.” Martha had been fussing over her since she arrived. She’d come in, put a hand on her belly, asked her about a million questions to the point where Chloe thought she should call Emil and ask where he hid her chart just to make things simpler.  
  
“Too much?” Martha bumped her shoulder. “See, I guess I struggled for so long to be where you are and… Well, things didn’t go as planned.” Martha sighed. “Even saying that, I know this wasn’t your plan. But that doesn’t mean things can’t work out for the best. I wouldn’t trade Clark for anything, you know,” she whispered. “And I’m sure he knows, too, as he’s listening in.”  
  
“I am not,” Clark grumbled next to her.  
  
Martha just laughed and leaned in to Chloe. “Anyway, I read so many pregnancy books at that time and I’d almost like to use that knowledge now.”  
  
“Well, I can tell you that Doctor Hamilton is checking me up weekly, if not more.”  
  
“Isn’t that sweet of him? Taking extra time for you?”  
  
“I guess it is,” Chloe said, surprised at the idea, something she’d never thought of before.   
  
“Most expectant mothers get monthly visits at the most.”  
  
“Yeah?” She knew her situation was different. Oliver must be compensating Emil for all the extra time. It was one thing for him to float the team’s medical expenses, but for her prenatal care to be so involved… “Excuse me.” She stood and moved to the other end of their joined tables, trying to keep a wide berth on John as she went, till she reached Oliver and Dinah, who seemed to be arguing about the minted peas with pearl onions.   
  
“I win. Peas are worth more than onions,” Oliver was saying.   
  
“Oliver?” she tried.  
  
“Yeah. Just a sec. They’re lighter and harder to aim,” he went on.  
  
“But the shotglass is a small target,” Dinah said, exasperated, “so it’s harder to get the onion to…”  
  
“Oliver, we really need to talk,” Chloe said louder.  
  
“Okay, okay. This isn’t over,” he shot at Dinah before pushing back his chair. “What’s up?”  
  
“Listen, I’ve been fine with things up to a point. I really appreciate so much of what you’ve done, but…”  
  
“Is this about the repairs?” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Chloe, it was a measly hour of filling holes and fixing wiring. I mean, they were already here. I can even deduct it as…”  
  
“I’m talking about Emil. I know you keep him on retainer, but for him to see me so much is… too much.”  
  
“Considering this isn’t your average pregnancy, I don’t think it is, but don’t worry. Emil volunteered the extra time.”  
  
“He did?”  
  
Oliver shrugged. “He said it was no trouble, stopping in on the way to work. Besides, he’s gotten to know you and he cares. We all do, Chloe. I really wish you’d stop balking every time someone wants to help.”  
  
“Well, I don’t mean to… I mean… I… Thank you,” she finally finished.  
  
Oliver chuckled. “That’s it? No ‘I’m fine. I can handle every single thing on my own?’”  
  
“Well, it’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it?” Chloe said with a withering glance. “I guess I’m just thankful for you right now.”  
  
“Oh.” Oliver smiled as he moved back to his chair. “You’re welcome, then.”  
  
She looked over the table. She really was thankful. She didn’t know how she’d be dealing with this if things had worked out as she’d planned in the spring, hidden away in some anonymous town with Davis. How would she have felt, pregnant, far from anyone who truly knew her? She supposed she’d have had Davis, but Davis was always tied up with the fear of what Davis could become. Also, Davis didn’t truly know her. She didn’t truly know Davis. As much as they opened up to each other, there wasn’t the ever-increasing intimacy of this group at the table right now.  
  
Oliver, who took care of any need his team had, no matter what.  
  
Bart, who could always make her smile no matter how terrible her mood.   
  
Dinah, who could cut through even the thickest bullshit and make her laugh.  
  
Victor, who could always be trusted to help her see things from all perspectives.  
  
Martha, who could treat this baby like some kind of boon from the heavens,  
  
And Clark… She was hard pressed to think of something Clark didn’t do for her, hadn’t done for her all these years…  
  
The only thing missing was Lois, who was, since her father had gone, the only person in her life who had known her for all of it. But she was safe where she was and she’d be back one day. Chloe had faith in that.   
  
“I’m thankful for all of you,” she whispered.  
  
“I heard that.”  
  
She turned to see John – who was always there when a person needed him, as Clark attested, also when they didn’t. “I was just… thinking out loud. But I should get in the kitchen and start…”  
  
“Why are you avoiding me, Chloe?”  
  
“I’m not… I mean…” She gave up, sighing. “Are you reading my mind? I thought you didn’t do that without...”  
  
“I don’t think I need to read your mind to see that. You’ve been keeping your distance from me all day. I’m obviously not going to read you without cause, so I thought I’d just ask.”  
  
“Fine. I have been avoiding you. But it’s for own good.”  
  
“And how is that?”  
  
She pulled him into the kitchen. “John, I’ve been thinking about your headaches and… Well, I have some idea about the cause.”  
  
He just stared at her. “Go on.”  
  
She stared back. Did she have to say it?  
  
“Alright.” Jones shrugged. “Did you want me to read your…”  
  
“I think my unborn child is blocking your powers and giving you headaches and…”  
  
Jones laughed.  
  
“What? I mean, it sounds ridiculous, but I really think…”  
  
He laughed harder.  
  
She threw up her hands. “Well, you only seem to have these episodes when I’m there, so…”  
  
“No,” he said, still laughing, “you just only see them when you’re around.” He sobered up. “For example, I’m not having one now and here you are.”  
  
“But what if it’s… making it happen,” she tried. “I’m not saying it means to. But…”  
  
“Chloe, this unborn child of yours is not capable of much right now, including harming me. It’s consciousness is… in a state I could best describe as active sleep.”  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
He closed his eyes. “It is growing, stretching, suspended as if in a warm, dark cave, exploring its environs, but unable to know itself or the state it is…” He stopped, glanced down at her stomach. “May I?”  
  
“Yes,” she breathed, before thinking better of it. “Wait!”  
  
His hand stilled before touching her.   
  
She felt unsure about this, about the idea of this little intruder being read as if it was really real. Yet, she couldn’t help it. Her curiosity about this, even this, was getting the better of her. “Please… please do it,” she finally said.  
  
John pressed his hand to her stomach, closing his eyes. He was silent for so long, she finally had to day something.  
  
“Is there anything…”  
  
“There isn’t much. Nothing I would call a thought. But it moves and is aware of you, aware of your voice. When you speak, it stops moving.”  
  
Chloe let out a shaky breath. “Is it… Is it normal?”  
  
Jones opened his eyes and backed away. “I don’t have any basis for comparison. But I know it doesn’t have the power to harm anyone… not at this moment. I can’t speak for the future. I can just tell you what I see now.” He searched her eyes. “I’m trying not to read you, but… Does that help at all?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she said, sniffling.

*****************

_For I have known them all already, known them all:  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,   
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;_  
  
 ****************  
  
“… so if Zhang says the dreams are needed to process memories and discard the unneeded ones, then…” Chloe shrugged. “Isn’t remembering your dreams counter-productive, anyway? I mean, if it’s basically like a computer defragmenting the drive, then dreams are just recyclable files…”  
  
“I’m going to have to stop your there,” Sarah cut in. “I know you spent some time with a supercomputer taking you over, but… Are you comparing something as complex as the human mind to…”  
  
“No,no, no. It’s just an example.”  
  
But she had made that comparison once. And it didn’t work out so well for Sebastian Kane… She pushed the name and the memory away quickly. Was it crazy that there were things she was afraid to tell Sarah, of all people? She seemed so nice and understanding.   
  
“I’m just trying to put forth the idea that me not remembering my dreams is perfectly healthy and maybe even preferable to remembering them. That’s all.”  
  
Sarah nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“Okay? That’s it.”  
  
“Chloe, I’m not telling you what to feel. I’m just…” Sarah took a deep breath. “You know, I can even see the mind as a computer if you want me to. Not like a box or a screen, but like a…” She closed her eyes, smiling. “Maybe like a beautiful map, like a power grid with all different colors depending on what they do. I guess the physical stimuli would be plain white light and the emotional would be light blue or yellow and the frontal…”  
  
Chloe sort of zoned out about there, more interested in watching Sarah’s face animate as she went on. She liked to talk… and a lot. Chloe only had to put something forth and Sarah would take it into the stratosphere, trying so hard to see her point of view, citing theories and quotes…  
  
“… and, as Emily Dickinson would say,  _the brain is wider than the sky_.”  
  
For example.  
  
“So I guess… no,” Sarah finally finished. “I guess I don’t agree the brain is like a computer.”  
  
Sometimes failing to see her point of view. Hell, Chloe couldn't complain. Most times, she didn't even know what her point of view was. Chloe sat back. “Then I don’t know what it’s like.”  
  
“Oh, no!” Sarah leaned forward. “I’m not saying it’s not fine that you see it that way. I just think that dreams do have meaning.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Is this that dream analysis stuff where, if I dream of shoes, I’m really thinking about something deeper because I don’t believe in all that…”  
  
“No. I’m not saying to look that deep. I’m not exactly a Freudian or a Jungian on dreams. Things are what they are and dreams are a way of organizing and processing what goes on. So I do agree with you that dreams are just your mind sorting through things that run through it without, most times, any logic or reason. Like… I don’t know. Last night I had a dream I was watching TV and controlling what happened like a video game. It’s not something I thought of at the time, but I remember rather wishing I had more control. Dreams can highlight your desires or even calm your fears – like how I thought Danny Devito was creepy when I was little and dreamed he was coming after my family and we had to get away. I find him funny now, but dreams can make it all seem rather silly, but that’s because they’re not housed in the part of your brain dealing with logic. They don’t make sense. But that doesn’t mean they’re meaningless. I mean… What was your last dream? The last one you remember?”  
  
Chloe was rather hoping they’d drop the dream thing. “I don’t even…”  
  
“Or any dream. Just for an example.”  
  
“Okay.” Chloe leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. “Well, the last dream I remember, I was going into the Talon’s basement, following this trail of rose petals and…” she stopped. That dream. It had started so nice, all of that curiosity about Davis, that attraction, that hope that he could fill the empty places left in her at that time and that she could make him a better man… It seemed in her grasp in that dream. Then the horror began, that trail of blood…  
  
 _"What did you think was gonna happen?"_  he’d said.  
  
“It was just a dream,” she hissed.   
  
“Chloe?”  
  
“It didn’t happen.”  
  
“Chloe…”  
  
“But it could have. It kills me that it could have.”  
  
“Chloe!”  
  
She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize. What could have happened?”  
  
She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it.” She could barely think about it, Clark hanging on the wall like a gory trophy.  
  
Sarah stared at her for a long time. “I just… I feel like you’re still fighting this, fighting me,” she sighed. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about dreams if you don’t want to,” she went on. “We can talk about your father. I mean, you mentioned him before but never went into it.”  
  
“Because there’s nothing to go into,” Chloe said, clearing her throat and reaching for her decaf. Sarah was right. It did taste almost as strong as the real thing. “I graduated high school, he moved away.” She shrugged. “Short of tracking him down, which he obviously doesn’t want, there’s no talking that out. He left because…” She stopped.  
  
Sarah just waited.  
  
“Well, because of the danger. Who wouldn’t? Junior year of high school ends, we enter witness protection and almost get blown up. How many dads would put up with that? Then he was blacklisted to start with, so… Maybe he was right to leave. Besides, I had a scholarship to Met U. I was fine on my own. I’m still fine on my own. And I’m not even on my own.”  
  
Sarah just stared at her hands.  
  
“Aren’t you going to say something?”  
  
“I’m trying to decide,” Sarah said softly.  
  
“Are you always this hard to read?” Chloe stood.   
  
“Do you want to be able to read me?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Chloe said, pacing the room. “How do you work with the rest of them?”  
  
Sarah paused for what seemed like a long time. “I don’t know if I should talk about my methods with anyone else. Everyone is different.” Sarah stood as well. “But I will say that every single one of you seems to move from crisis to crisis, never dealing with the aftermath, never talking it out beyond a word or two…”  
  
“Well, isn't that what you're here for? To make them talk?”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “Sure, if they’d let me,” she muttered, then stiffened. “I will say that I am a good ear and I can be trusted to keep a secret. I’m sure you know something about that, yourself. Chloe…” Sarah stepped in front of her. “You don’t have to be strong every second. You don’t have to hold it in. You can say what you feel even when it’s messy and undefined.”  
  
“But I have no right to feel…” Chloe pressed her lips into a firm line.  
  
“Feel what?”  
  
“See, I have all this help and I still feel… I can’t even tell anyone… I can’t even… I’m…”  
  
“Just say it,” Sarah whispered, taking her hand.  
  
“Alone,” Chloe finally finished, tears streaming from her eyes. “I feel like I can’t even say it because I have so many people here for me. I feel like it’s stupid. But…”  
  
“It’s not stupid. It’s something you feel and it’s valid.” Sarah grasped her other hand.  
  
“But they’re all trying so hard…”  
  
“That doesn’t mean it works all the time.”  
  
“I miss Lois,” she sobbed. “And I can’t have her.”  
  
“You can still miss her,” Sarah said softly. “You’re allowed.”  
  
“I can’t have my dad. He can’t take this life I have. But I still miss him.”  
  
Sarah pulled her in.   
  
“I want my mom, not even my mom as she is, but as I want her to be,” Chloe sobbed into Sarah’s shoulder. “And I know that can’t happen.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you can’t want it,” Sarah said softly, stroking her back. “You can feel pain, even the kind that can’t be fixed. You can feel anything, even joy if you want to.”  
  
“Joy?” Chloe pulled away. “About what? What is there to be happy about?”  
  
“I’m not saying…”  
  
“There’s nothing happy about this. Martha… she says she wants to plan the baby shower and I want to ask her why.” Chloe paced away, swiping angrily at her eyes. “This thing inside me… I can’t feel joy about it. I won’t!”  
  
“See, you say can’t and won’t, but I haven’t heard you say you don’t. Chloe…”  
  
“I’d be a fool to love something so… something that could be so dangerous!”  
  
“But that’s not stopping you, is it?”  
  
“No,” she sobbed… then laughed. “I find myself… I… I care about this baby.” She broke into sobs again. “But I don’t want to love him… it… him,” she finally breathed, sliding down the wall and to the floor. She glanced up to find a tissue fluttering in front of her face. She took it. “So… What? Is this hormones or am I crazy?”  
  
“Those are some pretty limited choices.” Sarah crouched in front of her. “Maybe you’re only human,” Sarah said with a slight smile.  
  
“So how do you fix that?”  
  
****************  
  
“You can’t.”  
  
“I can’t?” Chloe held onto her one and only box. “I want to take it up. It’s not even heavy.”  
  
“I’m just helping,” Clark huffed.  
  
“And I’m refusing your help.” He’d already got all her storage stuff crammed in there. The least she could do is carry one measly box. “So let me.”  
  
He sighed and ushered her into the elevator. “Just… I was thinking I’d arrange the furniture first, so you’d see the whole.”  
  
“Clark, is this about the color?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“I gave you free reign and I trust your judgment.”  
  
“Even if you hate it?”  
  
“I don’t think I will,” she said as she stepped off the elevator and moved to her door. “I… don’t,” she said when she opened it.  
  
She stared around her, at the hard wood floors, the boxes scattered around, the furniture covered in sheets and the walls… a pale peach.  
  
“You hate it,” Clark groaned. “I don’t know. I took a chance. I should have just done them in eggshell or cream so it would…”  
  
“I just said I don’t hate it,” she said, moving into the main room. She uncovered her couch. It was beige, would go with anything, but she couldn’t help but see her orange throw pillows against this peach wall… “I like it.” She thought of her turquoise accents pieces, her fruit bowl that was… in one of these boxes. It would all go well together. “I think it’s perfect. It’s…” Her eye caught on a splash of color in the street-side corner with the slanted ceiling. It was blue.  
  
When she moved closer she saw three white shelves along the upper wall in that little nook. They hadn’t been there before.  
  
Clark moved into it, running a hand along the shelves. “I figured they’d come in handy. For books or toys or… just anything you want to use them for.”  
  
Chloe blinked several times, turned away from him, stared at the wall instead, where it was divided between peach and blue. “How did you know?”  
  
“You know, I keep thinking,” Clark said softly, “about this situation. I try not to. I think about how you have to eat right and sleep well and see Emil and I never… Well, it’s just so much easier for me to focus on the whats instead of the whys.”  
  
Chloe let out a ragged breath. “It’s not easy for me, either.”  
  
“I know it isn’t,” Clark said gently. “That’s why I feel like such an ass, thinking of it being hard for me.”  
  
She turned away, moving into the main room. “We haven’t talked about it. Have we?”  
  
“No. I keep waiting until you’re ready. But I thought… Well, I knew the moment we saw this place, what this space would be. I could just see it in your eyes.” She felt him close the distance, so close behind her now. “Chloe… Do you want to talk about it? I know you’ve talked about it with Sarah. You must have, but… Do you want to talk about it with me?”  
  
She shook her head, not meaning no. Just meaning she needed a second. He seemed to get the message. He didn’t move away. “I don’t even know,” she said after a moment. “I have no idea what’s going to happen, how I’m going to get through it. The only thing I’m sure of is...” She took a deep breath and turned to face Clark. “I can’t leave this kid’s future to chance. I can’t let it be like with Tess or Davis.” She held his stare. “Not everyone is lucky enough to be snapped up by Jonathon and Martha Kent.”  
  
“Don't I know it," he said softly.  
  
“You didn’t go into everything Tess told you.” She smiled sadly and moved close to him. “But she grew up afraid and unloved and Davis... Clark, he told me things, awful things.” She shuddered and his hands moved to cradle her arms. “I don't know what problems this baby's going to bring, but I know one thing.” She met his eyes. “I don't want him to face them alone.”  
  
He held her gaze. “The same goes for you,” he said before pulling her in.  
  
Later that night, her last in her little room, she did dream. She woke from it, gasping, trying to remember so she could tell Sarah. But it was all so vague. She could remember holding a warm bundle close to her, running. She didn’t even remember from what. She did remember stopping, unwrapping her bundle and smiling… until the unwrapping seemed to never end. Why couldn’t she see its face?  
  
*************  
  
“And it’s the same dream. I don’t know if I’m having others, but this one keeps coming back. I’m kind of missing not dreaming if this is what I get.”  
  
Sarah hummed to herself and nodded. “Recurring dreams can be telling you something. Antti Revonsuo thought that their function was to simulate threatening events and then rehearse avoidance behaviors, like your mind is helping you prepare to meet your fears. But let’s get back to the dream. You can’t see his face and you feel frustrated…”  
  
“It’s not just that I can’t see him that bothers me. It’s when I hear another voice and start running again.”  
  
“Whose voice is it?”  
  
“That’s the part that bothers me. Why would I run from him?” she breathed.  
  
“Who, Chloe?”  
  
“Well, it’s all so hazy and I don’t even know why, but it’s Clark. I hear his voice and I just panic and take off running again. It seems wrong to be afraid of Clark, even in my dream. It makes no sense.”  
  
“Dreams rarely do. And running from him doesn’t mean you’re afraid of him. But the dream does have you afraid of something.” Sarah frowned. “Why don’t we talk about Clark? Have you told him about this dream?”  
  
“No.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t like to tell Clark about things like this. He’d want to fix it for me even if it’s not something that can be fixed.”  
  
“Well, he’s like most men that way. They don’t always get that telling them about something doesn’t mean you want them to do something about it. But what do you mean by things like this? You said the two of you would spend most nights, through the years, talking things out.”  
  
“Well, that was mostly… crisis control.” Chloe shrugged. “'What are we going to do about Lex? How are we going to protect Lana? What’s Brainiac gone and done this time?'” She let out a slight laugh. “Or, my old favorite, ‘stop blaming yourself, Clark.’ See, it’s hard to tell him things when he takes it all inside, finds some way it’s his fault, tries to make it up to you somehow when… I just don’t want him to take this on, too.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
Chloe sighed. “Out with it. What does ‘hmm’ mean now?”  
  
“Just that, as protective as you are about your friends, Clark seems to be the one you use most of your energy on. Kind of funny when he’s the most invulnerable, physically.”  
  
“Maybe he needs more of my energy. I mean, he’s definitely not invulnerable in every way. Plus, there’s always something out to get him. Is it any wonder it was hard to leave Smallville? He needed me.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “What? Is this more about my need to be needed? I’m dealing with the turning of the tables very well these days.” She took a deep breath. “I’m accepting help and knowing it doesn’t make me weak and…”  
  
“No. This is just… Clark. It’s just funny how, here you are, living in Metropolis and Clark spends so much time here… I feel like I rarely come here without finding him around. I just wonder, if that wasn’t the case, if you’d have looked for a place in Smallville.”  
  
“What? I’ve been practical about this. I wouldn’t have… It was about time I lived in the city.”  
  
“Still, I wonder…” Sarah stood and clapped her hands. “But I think our time’s about up. I really want to get Victor to look at my tablet before I have to get to class. Stupid thing keeps hanging when I try to switch screens.”  
  
“You know, I have some experience with those. If you want me to…”  
  
“Oh, no. I just… You know, I already told Victor about it. He’s already expecting to… Not that I wouldn’t trust your skills, just…”  
  
“No. It’s fine. He’s definitely the number one tech guy in these parts,” Chloe said, smiling.  _But I wonder,_  she thought but didn’t say.   
  
But she did watch Sarah and Victor in the commissary, sitting at a corner table, sometimes looking at the tablet, sometimes each other – though never at the same time. It was almost more like watching two awkward teenagers than two fully grown adults.  
  
“…thinking just some very light cardio, a little resistance training to strengthen your lower back before our time in the pool,” Dinah was saying.  
  
“Uh-huh.” She was fine with the exercise, not excited, but she’d been putting up with it. She craned her neck to look over Dinah’s shoulder, more interested in Victor and Sarah right now. He was touching her hand. Sure, he was just moving her finger on the touch screen, but it was physical contact and she could swear Sarah was flushed.  
  
“Of course, I’ll have to follow that by two hours of hard cardio on my own, after I drop you off. Damn Bart Allen to Hell.”  
  
“Hmm?” She turned her attention back to Dinah. “Why?”  
  
“Well, he had to go and try his hand at scones last night,” she grumbled, biting into one.  
  
Chloe chuckled. “Does that mean you’re forced to eat them?”  
  
“No, but still,” she said with her mouth full, “damn Bart.”  
  
“Why this time?”  
  
Chloe glanced up at Clark. “Bart made scones.”  
  
Clark shrugged. “Cool. Are there more?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Your tea.” He placed a cup down.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Clark frowned. “Where’s your coat?”  
  
“Must have left it at my place. I’ll get it in a…”   
  
He disappeared.   
  
Dinah chuckled. “He always do that?”  
  
“I guess. Clark tends to run off with no notice. It’s just…”  
  
“I mean bring you tea.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. I guess he’s been doing it every morning for so long now, I’ve gotten used to it.”  
  
Dinah leaned in. “Don’t you have tea at home?”  
  
“Yeah. But I’ve kind of got accustomed to this one tea from an uptown bakery. It’s decaf, but nice and strong and Clark says it’s no big deal, so…”  
  
“Here.” Clark dropped her coat on one of the empty chairs. “I put your gloves in your pocket, too, since you walked over her without even them,” he chided.  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Clark, it’s twenty feet, door to door. I was just coming for my session with Sarah.”  
  
“Still, it’s cold.”  
  
“The idea that you get colds from cold weather is a long-disproven…”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you take chances.” He looked at Dinah’s plate. “So are there more scones?”  
  
“In there.” Dinah nodded to the kitchen before turning back to Chloe as Clark disappeared. “He always do that, too?”  
  
“You hang around Bart enough. Aren’t you used to people rushing off?"  
  
“No. I mean the way he just gets whatever you need, then goes all…”  
  
“Mother hen?” Chloe finished on a chuckle. “I guess I’m used to that, too.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to say that, exactly.”  
  
Chloe lifted her eyes back to Victor and Sarah. They were standing up now and they seemed to be having trouble saying goodbye. She couldn’t hear it, but it seemed whenever one of them seemed to be walking away, the other one spoke, prolonging things.  
  
She sighed, shaking her head. “How can two people be so obviously crazy about each other and refuse to just… say it?”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
She turned her attention back to Dinah, who was wide-eyed. “What?”  
  
“I’m just surprised you’re actually talking about it.”  
  
Chloe leaned in. “I’ve  _actually_  been dying to talk about it. Do you see it, too?”  
  
“Well, of course I see it,” Dinah whispered. “It’s been the biggest elephant in the room for so long now.”  
  
“I know! But the thing is… People can only dance around these feelings for so long. Someone has to be the first to admit it.”  
  
Dinah gasped. “So am I to take you admitting it to me as… I mean, is your next step telling him?”  
  
“Me? Telling him?” Chloe scoffed and shook her head. “I think it’s going to have to be up to Sarah to tell him.”  
  
Dinah sat back. “Am I missing something about how therapy works? I mean, that seems above and beyond for her to tell Clark something so… personal.”  
  
“Clark? What does he have to do with…”  
  
“You ready?”  
  
She turned to see Clark, munching on a scone. “Yeah. I’m…” She trailed off, staring at Clark, then at Dinah… who was staring between her and Clark and grinning. “No,” she said to Dinah.  
  
“No?” Clark checked his watch. “Well, we need to leave now if…”  
  
“No. I mean yes. I am ready,” she said to Clark absently before turning to Dinah. “And no to your question and we’ll talk later,” she said in a rush as she stood.  
  
“Chloe!” Clark breathed.  
  
She turned back to him. “What?”  
  
“Is that what you’re wearing?”  
  
She glanced down at her skirt and blouse. It was one of her old ones and it was a bit clingy. Today, for the first time, she wanted to accentuate her pregnancy rather than hide it. “I know. It’s a little tight, but that’s the point. I’ll explain on the way to...”  
  
“A little?” Clark grabbed up her coat and put it over her, looking a bit red-faced.  
  
“There you go, Clark,” Dinah drawled, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t want anyone else to get a look at the goods.”  
  
“Stop it,” Chloe hissed, shrugging her coat on all the way. “Come on, Clark.” She’d straighten Dinah out later. “I think we should get a cab,” she said as they stepped out the door, pulling her gloves from her pocket.  
  
“To work? It’s not that far. Unless…” Clark turned to her on the stoop, moving closer. “Are you tired?”  
  
“No. I’m okay.” She stepped away, then down the stairs, wondering if it was just this kind of solicitude that was giving Dinah the wrong idea. “We’re not going right to The Planet. I left a message for Tess that we have a morning meeting, one last stop for our story.”  
  
“But we have all we need for…”  
  
“Let me rephrase. One last place we can visit on company time using our story as an excuse. I was trying to get a weekend appointment, but couldn’t.”  
  
Clark followed her to the curb. “A weekend appointment where?”  
  
“You know where,” she said with a withering glance at him.   
  
“Saint Louise’s opted out. We can’t…”  
  
“Tess doesn’t know that. Besides, we aren’t visiting as reporters, exactly.”  
  
“I thought we were dropping this,” he grumbled.  
  
“No. We mothballed it temporarily. But it’s getting closer to Christmas and we need to get it over with. Both the story and the… extraneous bits.” She opened her coat. “Do I look pregnant enough? I mean, I’m 21 weeks now, so I think I’m starting to show enough that…”  
  
“Chloe, what are you planning to do?”  
  
She smiled widely as two cabs passed her on their way to midtown’s morning rush “Just to hail a cab… to start.”  
  
“Good luck,” he muttered. “They never stop in this part of town.”  
  
“Yeah?” She opened her coat more fully and placed her other hand on her lower back, morphing her smile into a pained grimace.   
  
A cab screeched to a stop, the window rolling down. “You okay, Sweetheart?” the voice inside rasped.   
  
“I'm okay, but thanks so much for stopping. My feet are killing me,” she moaned, though she made sure to cradle her stomach. She turned to Clark as she opened the door. “Come on!”  
  
He glowered, but he followed.

 


	13. Chapter 13

_Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”  
Let us go and make our visit. _  
  


  
Clark was fidgeting, of course. “Chloe, this doesn’t sit right with me.”  
  
She glanced at the plastic divider, then turned to him in the back of the cab. “Then maybe you should sit this one out.”  
  
His brows drew together. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just…”  
  
“I’m serious. If I’m an expectant mother exploring my pregnancy options, then… I don’t know. I might look more sympathetic, all lost and alone, get more answers.”  
  
He scoffed. “Like what? Do you think you’ll get the vapors and they’ll fan you with their confidential files?”  
  
“I’m just saying that, if we hit the place together, they might think we’re a couple.” Dinah, apparently, was under that misconception. “They’ll probably wonder why we’re giving the baby up with us being so young and healthy.”  
  
“Maybe you’re too focused on your career,” Clark said, shrugging.  
  
“Or maybe you’re one of those guys who doesn't want kids.”  
  
“What?” He gasped. “Why am I the bad guy?”  
  
“How does that make you a bad guy? There are plenty of people that, for a myriad of reasons, don’t want the responsibility or pressure of being parents.”  
  
He shifted, grumbling. “Well, I’m not one of those people. I want kids. I mean… not that I’ve been planning on… Technically, I’m not sure it’s something I can… I’m just saying I like kids,” he finally finished.   
  
“I don’t know. Up till now, it wasn’t something I thought about.” She sat back, staring at her stomach, which her coat was definitely going to have a hard time covering today. Not that she was huge, but it wasn’t a maternity coat and the buttons were stretched to their limit. “It is a lot of responsibility. I’ve never really seen myself as a mom.”  
  
“I don’t think we have to tell them anything,” Clark said softly. “It’s not like they interrogate you at these places.” His hand gripped hers on the seat between them. “And I think you can handle it.”  
  
She turned to him. “Yeah?”  
  
He gave her that smile, that lopsided, almost shy smile that always told her Clark was about to get mushy. “Sometimes I’m amazed at what you can take on. All the things you’ve been through… Chloe, there are people that would collapse under the weight of all that and you never do.”  
  
She looked away, but kept her hand in his. “So what do you call seeing a therapist?”  
  
“Healthy. Sometimes I’ve thought we should all see Sarah, too.”  
  
She turned to him, frowning. “I thought you guys already did.”  
  
“I mean seeing her more often than we do,” he said quickly. “Anyway, raising that baby doesn’t have to be hard. I mean, you have a large pool of babysitters to choose from.”  
  
Chloe had to laugh. “You think that’ll last past the first poopy diaper?”  
  
“Well, I promise _I_ will.”  
  
She glanced sideways at him, still smiling. “So you say now…”  
  
“I will. Someone’s going to have to teach that kid to throw a ball.”  
  
“What if he doesn’t like sports?”  
  
“Pfft. That won’t be possible if I’m around. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure…”  
  
“What?” Chloe dropped her smile and turned fully to him. “You know, he could have better things to do with his time than… throw balls at things. He could start reading early and there are so many books I loved when I was…”  
  
“It’s more than throwing balls at things,” Clark hissed. “Not every sport is the same.”  
  
“Fine. Some hit balls at things. I’m just saying that boys don’t have to play sports.”  
  
“I’m not saying he has to, either,” Clark said hotly. “But you could at least let him try!”  
  
“I’m not saying I won’t let him, but…” She stopped. Were they seriously arguing about how she was going to raise this baby? On the one hand, it was surreal, on the other, it was all too real. Up until now, she hadn’t thought much about this baby beyond searching online for the best crib and now he was a boy torn between sports and books. She found herself laughing. "Sports. My God..."  
  
“What? I think team sports are a great way to learn discipline and control. Dad waited too long to let me, but when I finally played, it helped me work on adjusting my powers to new…”  
  
“Clark, this kid doesn’t even have a name, let alone a frustrated football star inside him. Let’s table this until he’s… born or something. I don’t know. Besides, we’re here.”  
  
“What do you think you’re going to find here, anyway?” Clark grumbled as they moved up the walk and past the green and gold sign. “We already knew she was here.”  
  
“I don’t know. This was my only way into the building.” She turned to him. “Listen, we’ve got this far. I just want to see how far we can get. Maybe this where the trail goes cold, but I need to see it through.”  
  
***********  
  
“…and, as you can see, we’re a bit light on our youngest residents,” Sister Susan was saying as she moved through the school rooms. “Really, most infants are found placement immediately. The same goes for toddlers, but sometimes it’s hard with older children, especially ones with… difficulties adjusting to new situations,” she said carefully. “Really, for those children, we’re more of a care facility. Infants are a different story.” She turned to Chloe. “Really, if you were to go through us, I can’t say your child would spend much time here. There are many people that want to foster or adopt a child they can… Well, that they can mold from a younger age. But I should warn you that we deal with closed adoptions only. We work with an organization and the screening process is stringent these days. Don’t worry. There is nothing that is not looked into.”  
  
“So if I were to give my child up, using your… services,” Chloe started carefully, “I couldn’t find him or…” She trailed off, not sure how to finish that. It was hard to even pretend. Somewhere along the way, maybe even in that little fight with Clark in the cab, this baby had become real to her, a person with interests. She was so curious to know what they’d be. But, right now, she was trying to put herself in the shoes of the woman who bore Tess Mercer. “I mean, he couldn’t find me either.”  
  
“No. I’m sorry if that’s something you’d want. We don’t deal with open adoption cases. I know that does work for some, but… It’s just not what we do. If you’re having doubts, there are other placement…”  
  
“I haven’t made a decision either way,” Chloe said quickly, glancing back at Clark, trailing behind. He was taking pictures with his phone -- the rooms, the dining area, the grounds. He’d told Sister Susan he just wanted to make sure it had all the resources needed. But what was the real reason? She turned back to the nun. “You said the screening process was more stringent these days. Just wondering about that. Did it used to be... less so?”  
  
“I confess, we had some issues in the past. Bad management, poorer living conditions, but we had a generous grant a few years back and implemented programs that helped us really streamline things. I’ve been here for years. Of course, I was only teaching before I moved into administration. But things are much better, even if I say it myself. We even received recognition from the Kansas Children’s Service League three years running.” She moved into the hall and gestured to three plaques on the wall, surrounded by large clusters of photos of children, large and small.   
  
Clark joined them, then, and even snapped that darned wall. What was he doing?  
  
Chloe pulled him to her side, annoyed. “You’ve definitely given me a lot to think about.” She leaned heavily against Clark. “Oh… my,” she breathed.  
  
“Are you alright?” Sister Susan asked.   
  
“Yeah. Are you?” Clark echoed, but she saw the glint in his eye.   
  
“Gosh, I must be tired,” she said, ignoring him, putting on a pained smile. “I haven’t been sleeping well and I left my water in the cab. If I could just sit for a moment…”  
  
“I’ll get you some water,” Sister Susan cut in hurriedly. “You just sit right there.” She led her to a wooden bench along the wall. “I’ll be right back.”  
  
Clark snorted as Sister Susan shuffled off. “Knew it.”  
  
“What did you know?”  
  
“That you’d fake the vapors. By the way, I love all the ‘gosh’ and ‘oh, my’ and…”  
  
“She’s a nun, Clark! I’m not about to break out my longshoreman’s vocabulary book.”  
  
“Still, who talks like that? You’re coming off weird,” he said, snapping a shot of the wall.  
  
“You’re one to talk, Ansel Adams.” She huffed and adjusted herself on the bench. It was short, more for little legs than fully grown ones. “This was useless, anyway. You were right. We know nothing we didn’t know before.” He was still snapping. “Okay. What’s with the pictures?”  
  
“I have an idea. I’ll tell you later.”  
  
“You might as well tell me now. Sister Susan isn’t exactly a speed walker.” Chloe was pretty sure she spotted a corrective shoe.  
  
“It’s just…” He turned to her. “Chloe, I didn’t tell you everything Tess told me about her childhood. You and me might have had our challenges, growing up, but we were never afraid of the people who raised us. Wouldn’t you want to know if there was something else in your past, just any other option?” He crouched in front of her. “You’ve watched her with the other stuff we handed in. You were looking to see if she suspected we were looking into her and, Chloe, she didn’t blink.” He shook his head and stood. “All this time, I kind of thought we were looking into things Tess already knew, private things she’s trying to hide. But what if we’re finding out things she doesn’t know herself?”  
  
“So we’re helping Tess now?” She blinked up at him. “The woman who spies on us every chance she gets?”  
  
“I think we should just slip a few shots of this place in with our story notes, see if anything helps jog her memory.”  
  
“Here, I thought this was terribly intrusive.”  
  
“It is. But it’s still the truth. And maybe we aren’t the only ones who need to know it.” He turned back to the wall as Sister Susan’s shuffling step moved closer down the hall. “Tess was here,” he hissed.  
  
She shrugged and shook her head. “That’s been established, but I’m still not sure…”  
  
“I mean. I see her. This is her. Isn’t it?” Clark was staring at one of the little pictures in the collages pasted around the plaques.  
  
Chloe stood to join him. She saw the picture he was looking at almost immediately, now that she was looking. It was a little girl standing in front of a blackboard. She couldn’t be more than three, but she looked so serious. Red hair, a high forehead, and a look of dissatisfaction they both seemed to know all too well by now.  
  
“I see you’re looking at our little graduates.”  
  
Chloe turned to see Sister Susan, holding a bottle of water.   
  
She took it. “Is that what you call them?”  
  
“Well, they’re all over the map in age. Some children stay here most of their lives, some only stay here in transition. I taught here for some time, too, so I remember most of them. I like to keep a shot of every child who finds a home through our efforts. It just helps remind me I’m doing something worthwhile.”  
  
Chloe supposed she needed that. Nuns weren’t exactly compensated for their work. She ran her finger over that red haired girl’s picture, initials scribbled into the bottom. “LT,” she read.  _Was it really her?_  
  
“Hmm?” Sister Susan moved closer. “Oh, Lena Theresa. At least, that’s what we called her at the time.”  
  
_Theresa. Tess was sometimes short for Theresa._  
  
"I took this picture." Sister Susan shook her head at the photo. “I remember because it took me three tries before I gave up. I never could get her to smile for a picture. Said she wasn’t going to smile unless something made her happy and posing for a stupid picture wasn’t it.” She laughed. “Very opinionated for such a little thing. You know, you aren’t the first to ask about her. Anyhow...”  
  
Chloe took a deep breath. She had to play this carefully, keep the subject on…  
  
“It must be those... piercing eyes of hers.” It was Clark who spoke. “I guess everyone must ask,” he said carefully.  
  
“Oh, not everyone. But I remember a young man was touring, considering donating, a few years back and he was quite arrested by Lena.” She sighed. “Such a sad, little thing at times. But very intelligent.” She stared at the photo, then smiled and opened her mouth as if to change the subject. "Well..."  
  
Chloe couldn’t have that. “I hope she went somewhere nice,” Chloe said quickly. “Do you know? I mean, I just hope… Do you ever get peace of mind on these kids? What happened after?” She cradled her stomach. “It would help me to know what happened to… Was it... Lena?”  
  
“Oh, she was adopted out before her fifth birthday. I don’t remember everything as I was only teaching then. But I heard the couple who took her seemed lovely, such sweet southern manners.”  
  
Chloe had nothing to say to that. Whoever gave Tess up to the Mercers had no idea what they were putting her into. For a second, staring at this serious little this girl and knowing she was no happier today, Chloe could see why Clark felt so sorry for her.  
  
“That young donor,” she heard Clark say. “Did he end up donating?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, he did – and very generously, too. We had a hall named after him. It was a shame to hear he passed last year. I know he was tied up in a few strange things, always in the tabloids, but I’ll always be grateful for what he did for our organization.”  
  
Chloe glanced up. “Who?”  
  
“Oh, what was his name? I should know this,” Sister Susan dithered. “He was part of a powerful family in this town…” She snapped her fingers beside her ear. “Lohman? Lerner?”  
  
“Luthor,” Clark supplied.  
  
“That’s the one!”  
  
***************  
  
“I’m trying to decide,” Clark said softly as he stared at the back of their cab driver’s head through the partition. “If it’s completely insane or painfully obvious.”  
  
“She’s definitely Luthor-like,” Chloe breathed. “I mean, I thought so from the first. Not that I knew then that...” She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t know now. We don’t know for sure.”  
  
“It could explain things,” Clark said, frowning. “Maybe she came here to look into where she was from.”  
  
“But she can’t know she was from here. You just pointed that out. Besides, she arrived here because Lex put her in charge out of nowhere.” Chloe leaned back against the seat, exhausted. “And now we know why.”  
  
“But we don’t know for sure. We seem to keep coming back to that.” Clark sighed and pulled out his phone. “Either way, I want to get these pictures into our story notes.”  
  
Chloe turned to him. “You still want to tip her off? After that?”  
  
“Maybe more than ever. ” He shrugged. “We’re going to find the truth, whatever happens. We know more than she does, already.”  
  
“We don’t even know that. Clark, she may know everything and just be damned good about hiding it.”  
  
************  
  
She wasn’t hiding it well.  
  
“Ah, this mythical human interest piece of yours. ” Tess forced her eyes back to the notes and away from Sullivan’s ill-fitting coat, which she was wearing indoors. If she was going to continue to pretend she wasn’t pregnant, she could at least do Tess the favor of hiding it better than this. “I thought you must have decided to scrap it,” she said in measured tones. “But here it is again. And only a month or so later.”  
  
Clark cleared his throat. “We’ve been holding off. We wanted to talk to a few more organizations closer to the holidays.”  
  
Tess lifted an eyebrow. “So you’re finished? Then where’s the draft?”  
  
They glanced at each other before Chloe spoke. “We can have it done before the Sunday edition. We just thought you might want to look over our notes before we wrote it up.”  
  
So not only were they still hiding things from her, now they wanted to make a game of wasting her time. Tess pasted on a smile. “I didn’t know you two required such hand-holding. Do you want a gold star or…”  
  
“Look, we just want you to look at the legwork,” Clark cut in, “just one last time before the write-up. If you think it's fine, then…”  
  
“I don't know if it's fine. Let me see,” Tess sighed, forcing her eyes to the notes again. It was still spectacularly annoying. Sullivan was getting bigger every day. It’s not as if she could legally force her to disclose her condition. And she really couldn’t say much about it. Then again, what was her main complaint about Sullivan and Kent? That they were thorough in their work and kept her out of their personal lives? The more she thought about it, the less she found herself caring.  
  
Lex seemed to want her to keep her head down and work and she was minding it less and less. At least The Daily Planet was something tangible, something she could say she had a hand in. Circulation was not up by much since the third quarter, but traffic – hence ad revenue – on the website had increased. Their site was at least better than The Star’s, with its messy layout and animated ads for adult websites or the “A mom's secret to whitening teeth! Dentists hate her!” Throwing herself into this was at least a better distraction than drinking and complaining deep into the night. And, crazy enough, she was good at it.  
  
“There’s no way I’ll run it with these pictures,” she said with confidence. “They’re out of focus, there’s no composition… Who did you get to take these?”  
  
“Uh… my cell phone,” Clark said sheepishly. “I was just… they’re just a general idea. We can send someone out to get better shots this week.”  
  
“Fine, do that. And drop the general idea.” She examined the printed shots. “You’re only going to get four pictures at the most, so make them count. These empty classrooms and…” She stopped, staring at a picture of an aged swing, the green paint chipped away in places and showing bits of another color underneath. She couldn’t help thinking it was yellow. The whole thing should be yellow, it was a duck, after all. It should have one blue eye on each side of its face and the metal stirrups should be orange, like mutated feet.   
  
She remembered one like that. Was it at her parents’ house? No. They had a tire swing. And even that was in such disrepair she couldn’t play on it for fear it would snap. Maybe it was at one of the playgrounds she spent her time hiding at. Maybe it was a popular model, like every playground had one scary duck swing that every wanted to fight over and Tess couldn’t see why because it was creepy and…  
  
“Tess?”  
  
She glanced up, shaking off the sudden melancholy. Clark was staring at her closely. So was Chloe. In fact, they’d both moved at least a foot closer. “It should be fine. Just none of this depressing scenery.” She shoved the notes back at them, wanting them away from her. “It’s Christmas. Just give me one kid smiling in a wheelchair, a group painting rainbows or whatever sugary thing kids paint, and a toddler with chocolate on its face. I’ll give you one underweight infant, but that’s it.” She moved back behind her desk and sat, finding her eyes damp. “I want a first draft by Thursday, not Friday. And send Jared to get the shots, but have him see me first.” She picked up her phone. “You can go.”  
  
She hung up the receiver when they shuffled out as it was more to look busy than anything. She didn’t have anyone to call. She didn’t know why she cared if Sullivan and Kent saw her get emotional. She didn’t even know why she  _was_  emotional. Maybe it was all this sad, disadvantaged youth dreck. She’d been on the receiving end of a few visits from well-meaning organizations. They did nothing, in the end. But she got away on her own. In fact, she personally didn’t see growing up with disadvantages as anything to cry about. If you could survive childhood, helpless and legally dependent on others, if you could fight your way free of that, then you were fine.   
  
She was free now, wasn’t she?   
  
She stared at her blinds in the fading sunlight and suddenly they looked an awful lot like bars.   
  
****************  
  
“Then you’re blind.” Dinah kicked off the wall and sliced through the water, easily putting ten feet between herself and Chloe.  
  
“I’m not blind,” Chloe sputtered, trying to keep up. “I’m trying to tell you that I see why you think what you think, but you’re wrong and… Can you slow down? I need to finally get you clear on this.”  
  
“Why?” Dinah kicked off the opposite wall and made her way back to Chloe. “It was two months ago, practically ancient history. And, even if every word I said to Clark in our little tiff back then was dead wrong, you two are getting along fine now." She smirked. "Way more than fine, if you ask me.”  
  
“That! That right there.” Chloe jabbed a finger at her across the floating divider. “You keep doing that, implying there’s something going on with me and Clark.”  
  
“No. I’m not under any delusion that there is anything going on between you and Clark. And that, that right there,” she said, waving her finger around mockingly, “is the problem. If you're refusing to acknowledge it because the timing sucks, then that's one thing. But if you seriously don't see it then…”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“I’m trying to find a polite way to call you an idiot. The man sees to your every need. If you’re at headquarters, he’s there. It’s one thing when he was hanging around headquarters all the time, anyway. But now you’ve moved out. And guess who I barely see just hanging out? Hmm, let me think…”  
  
“He’s not at my place… much. He only comes over when he has something to do… to fix… I mean, he…”  
  
“I know, Sweetie. I’m sure he always has some excuse,” Dinah said, backstroking away.  
  
“Damn it, he’s just being helpful,” Chloe said, following. “Emil spends time helping me, too. Do you want to make something out of that?”  
  
Dinah snorted. “No, but I could. I bet Clark can barely stand how much Emil gets to stare at your lady bits.”  
  
“Stop it!”  
  
Dinah slapped the water. “Oh, you’re no fun. And that’s another point. If you didn’t think I had a point, you wouldn’t get so upset.”  
  
Chloe stiffened. “I’m not upset. I just… I am…”  
  
“Listen, I know. I know this is a sticky situation,” Dinah cut in softly, moving closer. “But, I can’t lie, in my own subtle way, I’ve been rooting for you two.”  
  
“Subtle?” Chloe scoffed.  
  
“I know everything’s up in the air and stressy and miserable,” Dinah went on. “So why not? Why not grab a little happiness in the middle of all this? What are you afraid of? I can tell you right now, that man wants to grab you right back.”  
  
Chloe shook her head. “The only thing I’m grabbing is a cab home and a shower.” She flicked water at Dinah as she moved to the steps. “You’re crazy.”  
  
“Crazily perceptive and insightful, maybe… Hey, wait up!”  
  
By the time Chloe was home and showering off the chlorine, she had it in perspective. Maybe Dinah was just bored. Patrols had been routine, her relationship with Oliver had probably settled by now. Maybe she had too much free time on her hands.   
  
Hell, she knew what it was like to root for a coupling. Victor and Sarah might not be a ball of excitement, but she was interested all the same. She can only imagine how interesting she and Clark might be to Dinah. Two coworkers, one of whom was super-powered and the other going through a dramatic pregnancy. It seemed like Dinah had a little soap opera going for herself. "And she said she didn’t like reality TV," Chloe muttered on a laugh, then stilled in the middle of drying off. There was a noise – and not the pipes, though they were a bit noisy at night. It wasn’t a hiss, more of a shuffle. She grabbed her robe and shrugged into it, trying to decide between the plunger and the toilet brush. Those were the only weapons in the bathroom, but she doubted either would strike fear into the heart of an intruder. Maybe some mild disgust, but...  
  
She pressed her ear to the door, then fell heavily against it at a loud whap.  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
She backed away. “Clark, don’t knock so loud,” she groaned, rubbing her ear.  
  
“Well, I wanted to make sure you were… I mean, I couldn’t look through in case you were… I’ve got some LED lightbulbs. I want to change out your lamps.”  
  
She shook her head, trying to figure out why this had to be done at ten at night.  
  
_I’m sure he always has some excuse._  
  
She pushed Dinah’s voice away and adjusted her robe before opening the door. “Right now? It’s a little late.”  
  
Clark shifted a box in his hands. “I was reading this article about how those flourescent bulbs… I mean they use less energy, but they contain mercury and pregnant women shouldn’t be around them. If they break, they can release…”  
  
“Okay.” She stared at the large box in his hands. “How many lamps do you think I have?”  
  
He chuckled and moved into the living room. “This isn’t all bulbs. I actually had a few of your things in my fruit cellar. When we were putting your stuff in storage, I put a few things there, stuff I thought might be safer with me.”  
  
She followed him in and peeked in the box when he placed it down, taking his package of bulbs out. “Hey! My ‘Go Crows’ coffee mug!”  
  
He grinned as he moved away, starting on the lamps. “I just thought some stuff was too important to leave in a locker.”  
  
“You were right,” she said, pulling out her antique typewriter.  
  
“Hey, that’s heavy.” Clark dropped the lampshade he was removing and sped up to take the typewriter. “Where do you want it?” he grunted, a little red-faced.  
  
Maybe it was a bit heavy to her, but she didn't think it would be heavy to him. Then she noticed her robe’s neckline was gaping a little. She pulled it shut and looked around. “I guess the bookshelf. It’s still pretty empty.” She tightened her sash as she dug back into the box, embarrassed. But she was finding it hard to not be delighted when she found the bottom lined with hardback books. “I guess these will help. I hadn’t even gone through my book boxes yet. I didn’t even know these weren’t in there.”  
  
“I took everything that wasn’t a paperback just in case. Thought they should be somewhere cool and dry.”  
  
She stared at him as he moved around, changing out her bulbs at ten at night. Was there anything Clark Kent didn’t think to do for her these days?  
  
_The man sees to your every need._  
  
_Stupid Dinah._  
  
“I’ll be back,” she said, moving into the bedroom and closing the door. She’d been planning on wearing her silky, slinky lavender slip to bed tonight. Not for any reason except that she wasn’t going to fit into it by next week, if the rate her belly was growing was any indication. She’d wanted to wear something pretty one last time before putting it away and wondering if she’d ever get back into it. She rather doubted she’d be parading around in that with Clark here. He might think she had ideas and she didn’t. He didn’t, either. No one had ideas.  
  
_I can tell you right now, that man wants to grab you right back._  
  
And Dinah really needed to stop popping into her head. She quickly put on her worn blue, very unsexy pajamas with the little sheep and clouds and stuffed her feet into slippers before putting her robe back on and belting it tightly. Not that she needed to. In fact, she could parade in front of Clark buck naked and he’d only worry about her getting cold.  
  
Maybe he did go above and beyond these days, but this was Clark – pretty much the patron hero of damsels in distress. Even if there wasn’t much immediate distress, he was trying, in his own way, to be there for her. If he was a little overbearing -- so what? She was used to it by now.   
  
When she came out, he was placing her fluorescent bulbs in a shoe box in slow motion, like they could explode any second. “We didn’t get to talk much, with you running off to the gym,” Clark said as he gingerly placed one down. “Admit it. You saw it, too --- with Tess...”  
  
“If by it, you mean her staring at my belly a dozen times..."  
  
"I didn't mean that. But so what? You're not legally bound to say anything before you're ready." He frowned. "But I guess you're going to have to if you want enough maternity leave. Maybe we could take out a calendar and figure what date you should..."  
  
"Please not yet," Chloe said tiredly. "I've only just accepted that I shouldn't even bother unpacking my prettier shoes. Let's not put me in labor just yet." She shuddered. "But I saw the other thing, too. Tess turned white as a sheet at those pictures.”  
  
“She recognized something, but she doesn’t know.” Clark let out a breath as he put a lid on the shoebox. “I think she should know.”  
  
“So what do you want to do? Tell her we strongly suspect she may be a Luthor based on the recollection of an elderly nun and some logical leaps?” She took a small pile of books to the shelf. “Even though this seems like a big scoop, we’ve effectively met our dead end.”  
  
“Not necessarily. Now that we know what we’re looking for, we can find proof. I mean, there are DNA testing kits. You can send away for them and…”  
  
“Unless you have Lionel Luthor’s saliva on ice, there’s nothing to test with, Clark.”  
  
“You don’t need to find the father. Not to find shared paternity between siblings.”  
  
She placed the books down and turned to him. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
“Tracking down Lucas Luthor. All I would have to do is swab the inside of his cheek. I could do it while he was sleeping. He wouldn’t even have to know I was there. Neither would Tess.”  
  
Her eyes widened. “You are getting positively sneaky. Am I a bad influence?”  
  
He smiled. “You’re the worst.”  
  
“Okay. If you can get the samples, then I actually have a contact at Star Labs Chicago. When I was working Watchtower, Oliver had me liaison with them a few times and I have a rapport with one of the techs, so if you… Hey!” She reached into the box and came up grinning. “I know this book. Someone remembered this on my last birthday even though he neglected to show up. You know, with everything that went down after, I never did check for an inscription.” She opened it.  
  
“Huh?” Clark sped up to her. “Wait! Don’t…”  
  
Something fluttered to the floor, something pink.  
  
Clark snatched it up, but not before she got another look. “I meant to take that out. It’s just a receipt for…”  
  
“No. I know what that is.” She saw his name scribbled on the front of the folded, wrinkled letter. She held out her hand. “That's my letter.”  
  
He held onto it. "It was written to me."  
  
"But I never gave it to you."  
  
He stared at it for what seemed like a long time before he placed it in her hand and paced away.   
  
“I thought I threw this out,” she said dully.  
  
“Well, maybe you didn’t.”  
  
“No, I did. I specifically remember talking to you about it and taking it back and, after you left, I finally…”  
  
“Fine. You did. I went back and found it in the trash later,” he said, finally stilling.  
  
She shook her head, unfolding the letter. It was falling apart. “Why would you…”  
  
“I was just trying to figure it out. I mean, I was talking to Lois later that day and thinking about how you had these feelings then and I hardly knew how much you must have…” He shook his head. “And I know you were over it. You wanted to marry Jimmy. You wanted to be happy and normal and I wanted that for you. I just… I never got to read it then. I only got to see it for a second and I wanted to take another look and…”  
  
“How many looks did you take?” she breathed, feeling the paper. It was soft as cloth by now, and so worn at the creases it was practically torn.  
  
“I told you. I just needed to figure it out. Why did it come up then, right before your wedding? Why then, why not some other time when…” He paced back to her. “Why did you start going with him in the first place, just when… Damn it, Chloe! Why is there always something in the way?”  
  
She could only stare at him. “Of what?”  
  
He shoved a hand through his hair roughly. “You know, we’ve got work tomorrow. You were right before.” He moved to the door. “It’s a little late for this. I’ll…”  
  
He was gone before he finished.   
  
She was left staring at the door, dumbfounded.  
  
Then it opened again. “I forgot the bulbs,” he said rushing past her. “They’re dangerous. Mercury. Good night,” he said before disappearing again.  
  
She barely had time to register he was gone before he was back again.   
  
He stared at her, sputtering. “I was only… I just… Oh, screw it!” He gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her in, his lips suddenly hard on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. That’s en evil cliffie.
> 
> As you can see, I kind of let the Granny Goodness stuff be a thing of the past and not really applying to the story. I just have enough to do with this fic. I learned my lesson after The Almost Series (which I will archive here one of these days). Subplots take a darned novel up on their own.
> 
> I also changed her name from Lena Lutessa (Lutessa? For real? That's not even a name!) to Lena Theresa. Tess is often used as nickname for Theresa so it could still work without sounding horribly silly. (LUTESSA?)


	14. Chapter 14

_ _

_Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.  
Should I...  
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?_  


 

  
  
Clark Kent was kissing her.  
  
And she had no idea what to do about it. This wasn’t exactly something she thought would happen this night – this lifetime, even.  
  
It wasn’t as if it was out of the realm of possibility. Chloe Sullivan  _had_  kissed Clark Kent four times… that she remembered. He once told her about two other times, one of which might have had more than one kiss, that she definitely had no recollection of. That was kind of par for the course in Smallville, missing minutes, hours, even days sometimes. Regardless, she didn’t count those times she couldn't remember except to wonder who kissed who, how many times. She never asked, of course. They’d long since settled into being friends and the idea of asking was awkward and the idea of keeping some kind of score seemed silly.   
  
But, by her count, it was four and every single one was so fleeting, she barely had a chance to register she’d been kissed at all… and maybe she hadn’t. She’d kissed _him_ each and every time. Maybe the last had some participation from him, but as that was more than three years ago, she’d begun to think she’d imagined it, that Clark had never actually kissed her, even kissed her back.  
  
She couldn’t say that now. Clark Kent was most definitely kissing her now. And no idea how to react except to stand there, arms hanging, feet dangling, eyes half open, being kissed – and by Clark. She couldn’t seem to get past that part, couldn’t even decide how to feel about it, didn’t even close her eyes before it was over.  
  
He released her and her feet met the ground as he backed away, his hands up as if she had a gun on him. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “for that and the letter and…” He shook his head, eyes unfocused. “No. I’m not sorry about that. I… I mean, except if it made you uncomfortable." He stilled, staring at her. "Did it?”   
  
She just stood there, hand at her lips, staring at him. She had nothing to say. She couldn’t even decide if she was uncomfortable. Maybe if he kissed her again, she could be sure…  
  
He growled and paced away. “I didn’t mean to put that letter in that book. It was just. I’d been reading it… The book, not the letter… to you when you were out for the summer… Well, I guess I kept thinking it would help if you heard something familiar and sometimes I’d read it on my own because… I don’t know. I thought you might be impressed if I knew the weird tales. And the letter… Well, I would look at that, too, just sometimes, even before the summer and… and… and…”  
  
“Clark, it’s okay,” she found herself saying, more to stop him pacing than out of any feeling that any of this was okay. She still wasn’t sure what it was. "I mean, it’s just a letter. I’m not mad or…”  
  
“Then the kiss. I’m sorry I… Wait.” He stilled, shaking his head again. “No, I’m not sorry.” He moved to her. “Chloe, you and me… There’s always… Damn it!” And he was kissing her again.  
  
At least this time, she was over the initial shock, enough to start thinking about whether she should be kissing back. She’d just decided she might as well give it a try when his lips were gone again, though his arms stayed looped around her.   
  
“You say I touch you too much,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “And I know I do. It’s hard not to. Sometimes I feel like I have to touch you, just to keep checking you’re still here, that you won’t leave again.”  
  
“Clark, I wasn’t gone that long with Davis.” She found her hands moving to his arms, either to steady herself or keep his arms around her. She couldn’t decide which.  
  
“Maybe it wasn’t forever, but it felt like it would be at the time and I couldn’t stand it. Then there was that other you and she was gone just as…”  
  
“Other me?”  
  
“God, I keep forgetting about all you don’t know.” He sighed and pulled her in, her head against his chest and his hand making circles on her back. “It’s not that we don’t want to tell you, Chloe. It’s just that, with everything going on, you have enough to… Jesus! This is exactly why I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorr…”  
  
“No.” She kept her grip on his arms when he started to pull away, meeting his eyes. “Clark, I want to know. What about the other me?”  _And don’t stop touching me._  She really didn’t want this to end before she even knew how to feel.  
  
“I found you in the woods – or I thought I did. It wasn’t you. It was one of Tess’ assistants, a shapeshifter named Eva Greer.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes widened. “You did mention her. Any relation to…”  
  
“You know, I wondered that myself. I never looked into it. So much happened after,” he said softly. “I mean, she died and…”  
  
“How?”  
  
“There was some kind of chip implanted in Tess' Black Creek mutants, some kind of kill switch and…”  
  
“Jesus, Clark! You still feel sorry for this woman?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know for sure that she did it,” he grumbled. “Tess said Lex implanted the chips and they malfunctioned and I have no way of knowing if that's true or not. Either way, Tess is just... Listen, there’s something in Tess, something that tries to be good. But how can someone be good if no one ever taught them how? I got lucky, Chloe. Everything good about me, good that I do, is because of my parents. These powers are just how I do it, but it could have been different. I could have been different with the wrong parents. And you… You could have taken your absence of a mother and acted out and you didn't.”  
  
She let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Who’s to say I didn’t? Talking to Sarah… a lot of my obsessive truth seeking might have been my way of finding something solid in my life. And it was touch-and-go a few times with me. That deal with Lionel, all the craziness this year…” Sebastian Kane. She was still afraid to tell Sarah. Sometimes she thought Clark, if anyone, could understand. “Clark, there are things about last year you don't know."  
  
“Chloe, I don’t want to talk about the past.”  
  
“But you should know some…”  
  
“There are things you don’t know either,” he cut in. “And you don’t have to. The point is that other you… she wasn’t you. But she did help me realize something. I didn’t want to be angry anymore, I didn’t want to be at odds and I promised myself that, if you came back, we could start over. But then you’re back and gone just as soon, trapped in that coma, and I think I spent every night by your bed just to keep hold of your hand. This hand,” he said softly, pulling it to his chest. “It made no sense, but I felt like, if I didn’t keep hold on you, you’d never come back. When you woke, I couldn’t stop. I could barely keep it in check, how much I needed to touch you, then this…” He glanced down between them. “Chloe, I know my timing is the worst. I think it always has been with you. But I think I should stop caring, stop waiting for some right time because it never comes.”  
  
Her eyes widened as he took that hand, kissed it softly.   
  
“Sometimes I think, deep down, I’ve always kept you in my back pocket – but not the way you think. It’s because I can never let it go – this half-formed idea of you and me. Like one of these days, everything could line up. But there’s always something in the way.” He bent down, still keeping hold of her hand, picked up the letter from the floor. “This letter, Chloe… I can’t even tell you how many times I read it. Not just this summer, but before, ever since I knew it existed. Even through Lana coming back and trying again with her, even though it didn’t work. It never did. I kept wondering if you were right about the kind of girls you grow out of. Then I wondered about the kind you grow into and…” He sighed and shook his head, staring at the letter. “I don’t know if it was even clear to me. All I know is that I couldn’t get this letter out of my head since the day you showed it to me. I just kept thinking… Why now? Why does this come up just when you’re getting married?”  
  
She pulled her hand from his, took a step away. “Clark, you gave me away. I don’t remember much about the wedding, but I remember you… You never said any of this after or…”  
  
“How could I?” He stared at her sadly. “Jimmy was… Well, he was normal. He was something away from all this danger. That’s what you wanted and I wanted that for you. I wanted it so much that I…” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I wanted something safe for you. I just kept thinking I’d get past this and maybe that letter... Maybe it was pointing me to someone else. Then again, you said it was pointing you to Jimmy, but that didn’t exactly...” He trailed off, growled softly. “Chloe, maybe this letter means just what it says. Sometimes I think of the day I met Jimmy, the day I came back from The Phantom Zone, surviving that whole time and thinking of you, of what it meant when you kissed me, only to come back and find you flirting with him and… Well, he was in the way. I grew to like the guy, but he was just another thing in the way. There’s always something in the way. Sometimes it’s you and sometimes it’s me. But it always just keeps coming back to us. Maybe this time we could see where it goes.”  
  
She could only stare at him, holding her letter, his eyes so strange and soft. And she still had no idea what to say to any of this!  
  
“God, I‘m so sorry.” He paced away, running a hand down his face. “You’re going through therapy and you’re having a baby and you don’t even have a crib and I’m dumping this on you. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I left and I shouldn’t have come back.” He sped up to her and pressed the letter into her hand. “Chloe, this doesn’t mean anything for you. This is my problem and you don’t have to worry about it.” He moved to the door. “I’m sorry. I should just…”  
  
“You should just stop talking,” she cut in loudly as he opened it. “You can at least let me talk.”  
  
He stilled in the doorway. “Well, you weren’t saying anything.”  
  
“That’s just because you wouldn’t stop saying things. I have… things to say,” she lied. She might find some.  
  
He stopped and turned to her, waited, then waited some more. “Are you…”  
  
“Could you give me minute?” she hissed.   
  
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” He stood there, his hand still on the doorknob  
  
She stared down at the letter, opened it again, stared at the smudged words before she spoke. “You know, when I threw this letter out, I meant it. I can’t honestly say that, the minute I met Jimmy again, I was over you. That took work, years of it. Work on Jimmy, convincing him I was over you and convincing myself and… It paid off, Clark. I was over you. But sometimes I wonder… I could have burned this letter. And I didn’t. I could have moved away from Smallville. My life was here in Metropolis for years. Hell, Jimmy’s life was here and I convinced him to stay there, saying stuff about the rent and all that coffee right downstairs.” She sighed and folded the letter. She thought about what Sarah said, about whether she’d be here now if Clark wasn’t always around. If she’d have been in Smallville then without him and… she wouldn’t have. He was the only thing keeping her there. “I stayed in an apartment owned by Lex Luthor in a town that had nothing for me except…” She finally glanced up at him. “Well, except you.”  
  
He stared back, something close to a smile on his lips. “Well, you said you wanted to hunt me down when I moped.”  
  
“That, too.” She stared down at her slippers. “I mean, it’s not like you answer your phone in mope mode. But maybe it was just really hard to think of a day when I couldn’t see you if I needed to or just… just wanted to. Maybe you’re not the only one with this barely-there idea about us.” She met his eyes. “But it’s been a long time since I let even the idea of us in. It’s like I only know how to keep you out. I don’t know how to even begin letting you in.”  
  
“So what are you saying?”  
  
“I don’t know for sure,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “The only thing I’m sure of right now is that I want you to kiss me again.”  
  
She heard the door shut and opened her eyes as he approached her slowly, his hands cupping her face. “Chloe…”  
  
“Just kiss me,” she breathed. She had to know for sure, after all this time, if this was even something she wanted. Even those last two kisses had gone by so quickly that she barely had a second to know if she wanted them to go on. It would be a terrible, after all this work, to get hung up on Clark all over again if he couldn’t even kiss.  
  
Of course, she should have known. By the time he bent to her… His lips brushed hers, so softly back and forth before they opened. For a scant second she wondered if he’d be one of those guys who just stab in the tongue and ruin everything, but he didn’t. His lips just wrapped around her bottom lip, pulling gently before he pulled away, brushing back and forth again.  
  
Clark had always gotten good grades with what she thought was the minimum amount of work, had always attracted every new girl in town effortlessly, managed to run a farm and save lives, so of course he could kiss pretty much perfectly… and maddeningly. She had been fairly passive up to now and she was almost ready to grip him hard, shove her own tongue into his mouth, when he tasted her, just the tiniest slide across her lips that made her knees buckle.  
  
He caught her, one hand sliding down to grip her back as she sagged against him, the other still cupping her face, thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheekbone as his mouth opened over hers.  
  
“Kiss me back,” he breathed against her lips.  
  
She would… in a second. Right now, she just wanted a few more seconds of him kissing her in no uncertain terms, knowing this was happening and not because she was throwing herself at him in some moment of girlish rapture. No. They were adults now… a fact that was only hammered in when that gripping hand pulled her closer and she felt him hard against her stomach.  
  
She let out an involuntary moan and slid her arms up his, gripping him back hard as she opened her lips, sliding her tongue out to taste just the underside of his top lip.  
  
He sort of lost it then, both hands sliding down to her buttocks, squeezing and pulling her against him as he backed the both of them to the door. His tongue dipped and slid against hers as he turned them around, pressing her against that door with his hips and his hands and his sudden pulses inside her skin… _Wait._  
  
She stilled and so did he, the both of them pulling apart and staring down between their bodies.  
  
She gasped as she felt it again, an almost involuntary laugh bursting out of her. “He kicked.” She pressed a hand to her belly, almost willing it to happen again.  
  
“I thought I felt something,” Clark panted. “I wasn’t sure…”  
  
“No, I felt it. Here.” She pressed his hand to her stomach. “He’s doing it… just a little. Can you feel it?”  
  
Clark’s hand splayed against her. “I guess he stopped. I don’t…”  
  
“There! Feel that?” It was just a little one, she couldn't tell if it was a hand or a foot against her, but he was moving.  
  
He smiled widely. “I do.” He met her eyes. “Wow.”  
  
“I know.” She smiled back. “Wow.”  
  
His smile faded. “This isn’t the right time, is it?”  
  
She dropped hers as well. “I thought you said you were done waiting for the right time.”  
  
“Well, I know there’s a wrong time,” he said, pulling his hand away as he stepped back. “I think you do, too.”  
  
She shook her head sadly and moved past him. “Maybe it’s always the wrong time for you me.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s…”  
  
“For crying out loud, Clark.” She whirled on him. “Did you ever think there’s a reason there’s always something in the way? Maybe this just… Whatever there is between us, it’s not enough to get past all the… all the stuff that actually _is_ standing between us,” she finished weakly, “especially now.”  
  
“No.” He stared at her, shaking his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. Maybe there’s a lot happening right now. Maybe we need to just table this for a month and…”  
  
“Just for a month? Clark, I’m about to bring a life into the world. This is not the time to add… just any other new things.”  
  
“Then I’m sorry,” he said dully. “I knew I shouldn’t have…”  
  
“No,” she cut in, her voice breaking. She turned away, back to that box, blindly pulling out some books. “I’m glad you did. It’s good to feel wanted.” She turned and forced a smile. “I mean, I’m not at my most attractive these days. But, you know, we explored this and it was interesting, but…”  
  
“Don’t,” he cut in.  
  
“I’m just saying…”  
  
“If you’re just making it some kind of curiosity we got out of the way, like you getting our first kiss over with,” he said tightly, “then don’t. I know how I feel, Chloe. If you don’t feel the same, then say it.”  
  
“I’m not saying I don’t,” she cut in loudly. “I’m just… I… Clark, less than a year ago you were reconnecting with Lana and I was married to Jimmy.”  
  
He stared at her. “What are you saying?”  
  
“I don’t know!”  
  
“Chloe…” He took a deep breath. “I’m seriously trying not to put pressure on you, here. But if you don’t feel there’s anything between us, then just…”  
  
“I don’t know! That’s the point, Clark. I don’t know what I feel because almost everything I feel is out of whack right now. Yesterday, I found my cell phone in the fridge. You know those commercials where the little kids dress up like doctors? This is something I cry over now. So, for me to make any decisions with any kind of permanence right now is insane. Yes, I wanted you for years, I struggled to not want you for years since and, right now, I want you to rip these ugly flannel pajamas right off me! But I don’t know if any of that is a good decision and neither do you!” He was staring at her pajamas now. She quickly covered the sheep and the clouds up with her robe. “Clark!”  
  
His eyes lifted to hers. “Yeah? I mean… Yeah. You’re right. We need to table this.” He shook his head, “I mean, we have a story to finish and... I get it.” But he was moving closer, his eyes on her neckline and his hand on her robe’s dangling sash. He dropped it quickly. “I get it. I’m going.”  
  
And he was gone.  
  
*****************  
  
They didn’t talk much. It wasn’t as if they didn’t talk at all. They had story to finish as well as their little side project, but aside from their little confabs on those, they didn’t talk, especially not about… _it._. Sometimes, he seemed to start and she quickly changed the subject to story structure or what section to cut or…  
  
“Are those results ever going to get here?” she said over Clark.   
  
“Shh!” Clark looked around the commissary. “I only dropped the samples yesterday morning.”  
  
“But that’s plenty of time,” she whispered, rather glad he took the bait. “Are you sure you got good swabs?”  
  
“I got exactly what I needed while they were sleeping,” Clark said impatiently. “They didn’t even know I was there.”  
  
“But what if you didn’t actually get any… cheek?”  
  
“Your tech said he got them. He would have told you if the sample wasn’t viable.”  
  
“Then this is on him. What’s with him? I mean, I told him it was a rush. I can’t believe…”  
  
“Could you keep your voice down?” Clark hissed, looking around.   
  
They hadn’t told the others about their progress on the Tess front. They just weren’t sure there was anything to tell yet and weren’t even sure, if that Luthor connection turned out to be true, if it was something to announce to the group at large. But it was fine. There was only Bart and Victor in the commissary today and they seemed absorbed in some video, hissing loudly.  
  
“Did you see that?” Bart giggled. “Right in the nuts!”  
  
“That’s awful. Why did you show me this? Play it again.” Victor gestured to Clark from their table. “Clark, you have to see this. There’s this dog and…”  
  
“I’m good. Bart already spoiled the ending,” he said, squirming a little in his chair.   
  
Chloe rolled her eyes and sipped at her meager coffee ration, wondering if Clark could truly sympathize. Had he ever been injured that particular way on green K? It was kind of an awkward thing to ask.   
  
“So, as I was saying… After work today, there’s this bakery on tenth. I thought we could go there and just talk about…”  
  
_Speaking of awkward things…_  
  
“You know, I wonder if the mail’s come at my place,” Chloe cut in, pushing back her chair. “I should check before…”  
  
“Chloe, it’s barely after eight,” Clark said, putting a hand up. “I doubt it’s come yet. And fine. Message received. I guess we’re just tabling this indefinitely,” he finished on a mutter.  
  
“I never said indefinitely.”  
  
“I thought we said we’d talk about it after the story.”  
  
Technically, he said that, not her. “The story’s not done.”  
  
“Well, it’s Thursday. We have to get our draft in today.”  
  
“But we still have Sarah’s interview to get in,” Chloe checked her watch, “if she ever gets here. And the draft isn’t even turned in, so…”  
  
Clark threw up his hands. “So we can’t even talk about talking about it?”  
  
“Not when we have to focus,” she mumbled, opening her folder. “We can’t fit in much, so I think just three good questions and we brief her on the photographer this afternoon and…”  
  
“Yes. Fine. Three,” Clark said abruptly. “Let me see what we can narrow it down to.”  
  
She sighed and stared at him as he pulled the folder to him. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it. There were times in these last few days when she stared at her phone, willing herself not to call him with some excuse. There were a few times she thought of breaking something just to have him come over and take care if it and while he was at it, he could take care of a few other things. But she didn't. Though she did so so far as to unhook the chain in the back of her toilet once, she didn't call him.  
  
She just didn’t trust herself right now. According to everything she was reading, she was coming into what they called pregnancy brain. Today, she almost walked out the door in the dead of winter in her bare feet. Yesterday, it had taken her three tries to put her shirt on right-side out. She also had a sex dream about Lionel Luthor. The less said about that, the better.  
  
Then again, she wondered if she should tell Sarah about it today, even though today wasn’t technically a session. It was, at least, something besides her running away from Clark with a faceless baby. But she’d rather not tell anyone about it… ever. Besides, it was just hormones. She’d read that things might get a little horny in the next few months… which was exactly why she needed to keep well away from Clark outside of work. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to do something stupid – like maybe rip those notes out of his hands and pull at that ugly tie with footballs he was wearing with an uglier plaid shirt. Maybe she could rip it to shreds. He might even thank her and…  
  
“Morning!”  
  
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered as Sarah swanned in with her giant bag.  
  
“So sorry I’m late,” she said in a rush as she put it down. “It’s just I was thinking about how this photographer’s coming today and I was going to wear a dress and then I thought that might look silly because we’re doing finger-painting today and it’s washable paint, but that doesn’t always mean…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I kind of split the difference and wore a skirt and blouse. I don’t know. Maybe it looks too dressy. I have time to change after class before…”  
  
“You look nice,” Victor cut in, standing.   
  
Sarah turned to him, eyes widening. “Hey. Didn’t see you there. Uh…” Her hand went to her hair, which Chloe thought was silly as there wasn’t much of it. “You look nice, too. Not that you have to because you’re not getting your picture… I mean, you always look… You sure it’s okay? Not too dressy?”   
  
“No. It’s a nice change.” Victor smiled a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something without paint all over it… Not that you look bad with paint all over you… your clothes,” he finished lamely.  
  
_God, just kiss already!_  Chloe madly wondered if they would. If they all made some excuse and left and Victor would just grab Sarah by the blouse and clear a table and…  _Dear God!_  Now she was fantasizing about her friends! She had to get it together.  
  
She cleared her throat loudly and stood. “So, we won’t keep you long. We already got a lot from the county website. We just need a few good quotes from you.”  
  
Sarah tore her eyes from Victor and smiled. “Sounds pretty simple.”   
  
Of course, it wasn’t – which was mostly thanks to Sarah, who kept getting off topic and asking about their story process.   
  
“Well, Clark and I just take a section each and then trade and mark up each other’s copy. So about the sports therapy. How does that work with the specially-abled…”  
  
“That’s interesting.” Sarah glanced at Clark, absently tapping on her notepad with her pen. Chloe didn’t realize why she had it out. This wasn’t a session and she hadn’t written a thing down. “Who uses the most red pen?”  
  
“She does,” Clark muttered.  
  
“I do not,” Chloe scoffed, snapping her recorder off.  
  
“You do. My drafts are pretty much bloody with question marks by the time you get through…”  
  
“Because you never provide enough detail. It’s just like on The Torch. You’d hand in this vague copy and I’d have to fill in all the facts!”  
  
“Exactly. You always want it done your way, so why even bother putting my own spin...”  
  
“'Gym Gets New Mats' isn’t exactly a spinnable piece.”  
  
“Well, you never gave me anything better than that.”  
  
“Because you were always late. I was always picking up your slack and you were just so used to it that you let me and…”  
  
“Wow. You two have actually worked together a long time by now,” Sarah cut in with a laugh.  
  
“I’m not sure if I’d call it working  _together_ ,” Clark said, giving Chloe a tight smile. “One of us always thinks she’s the boss.”  
  
“Stop with that. I just happened to be editor at The Torch and…”  
  
“This wasn’t just at The Torch. You were always pushing me to…”  
  
“To what? Actually take an active role instead of waiting for a disaster to hit? Sometimes I think, if it wasn’t for Oliver coming to town, you’d have never done anything. You never listened to _me_.”  
  
“Pfft. I kind of think every conversation we have is me listening to you. I hardly ever get a word in.”  
  
“That is not true. The other night, you went on and on and hardly let me…”  
  
“Oh, so _now_ we’re talking about it?”  
  
She closed her lips tight and drew back. “No,” she said, lifting her chin. “We have a story to write. So Sarah…” She pulled her eyes away from Clark and turned back to her, feeling annoyed. “About your program…”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Sarah smiled and grabbed Chloe’s recorder, snapping it on and speaking quickly. “It’s an after-school program from three to five. We divide our time between homework help, art expression, and light sports in the park just before their parents come. The disabled children are encouraged to join in and every safety precaution is taken. If any kid doesn’t want to join in, we let them watch from the sides, but they usually do end up joining the game in whatever capacity they feel comfortable with. We divide into teams and we do keep score, but not too heavily and we make sure the teams are always switched around each new day so no one gets too competitive or rooted in team think. But I happen to think some competition is healthy and definitely helps them gain confidence. These really are great kids and the high-school aged kids almost always come back to volunteer. It’s really a beautiful thing to see them blossom,” she finished brightly before snapping the recorder off and handing it back to Chloe. “Well, I’ve gotta get to class. It was so great talking to you two. I hope the story’s a big hit,” she said, scribbling on her pad. “Thanks so much for including me.” She smiled ripped off a scrap of paper, handing it to Chloe. “See you Tuesday,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed out.  
  
Chloe just stared after her, kind of realizing what had been annoying her all this time. Sarah wasn’t getting off topic at all. She was controlling the conversation the whole time and saving the info Chloe actually wanted until Sarah got what she did. It was like some sneaky little session, complete with homework. Chloe crumpled the paper, not even looking at it. She had a good mind to throw it out. “Come on. We’d better get to work.” She pulled on her coat.  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Clark grumbled.   
  
“Oh, stop it,” she groaned as she moved out and down the hall. “You made me come off like some kind of bossy, pushy…”  
  
“Me? I think you did that all by yourself. And, by the way, I was saving people long before Oliver came to town,” he said as he opened the front door.  
  
“Sure, when you absolutely had to and at the last possible minute,” she pointed out. “Oliver putting this group together was when you finally started patrolling and preventing…”  
  
“Aren’t you going to button your coat? I checked the weather. It’s below freezing.”  
  
She growled and did it, even the middle buttons that barely met. “I see you left out how much you boss me around these days.”  
  
“I only ever gently remind you…”  
  
“Oh, save it.” She started to pull on her gloves, then realized the paper was still in her hand. She quickly opened it as Clark moved down the front steps.   
  
_enough bickering, you two need to FIGHT_  
  
“What is that, anyway?”  
  
“Nothing.” She stuffed it into her pocket and moved down the steps, pulling her gloves on. She didn’t want to fight with Clark. She didn’t even want to bicker, except for after Sarah kept pushing their little buttons. And they really didn’t need it, not with a story to finish today and… maybe more. She stared at the postal truck leaving her building. “Mail’s here,” she said with relish, moving quickly to her building.

“It’s here. It has to be here. I mean, he said by today,” Chloe babbled as she moved to the mailboxes and started searching for her keys, which were not in her purse. “You know what? If it’s not here, we call. Just tell him to sum up what he’s found because we don’t even need the hard copy. Just to know is…”   
  
“Would you just see if it’s here before you start freaking out about if it’s not?” Clark cut in, bending down and picking up some of the stuff she was now pulling out of her purse.  
  
“I can’t see because I can’t find my keys. Stupid pregnancy brain. I probably locked them in,” she growled. “Okay. You go bust down my door and…”  
  
“You gave me a spare,” Clark sighed. “Remember? Besides, your keys are in your pocket. You’ve been playing with them the whole walk over here.”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” She pulled them out as Clark continued picking up the debris from her purse. She’d help, but bending was not her thing these days and she was too overexcited to care about food receipts and lipstick right now. “Bill, junk, coupon, bill…”  
  
“We need to fight?”  
  
“Star labs,” she said, almost shrieked.  
  
“What does she mean by that? We need to…”  
  
“Huh?” She turned to Clark, who was frowning at Sarah’s scrap of homework. She snatched it back. “Never mind that.”  
  
“Well, she put it in capital letters. What have you been saying that makes her think we need to fight? We don’t even have anything to fight about,” he grumbled. “I mean, we have some things to disagree about, but not actual fighting type…”  
  
“Clark!” She held up the envelope. “They’re here.”  
  
“Yeah. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Well?”  
  
She stared at the envelope, then held it out. “You open it. I can’t do it.”  
  
He took it. “Okay.”  
  
“Wait! I want to open it.”  
  
He gave it back. “Okay.”  
  
She didn’t take it. “No, wait. You just look through a little and tell me if I want to open it or…”  
  
“For crying out loud…” He tore it open and unfolded the packet.  
  
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. “What does it say?”  
  
“I’m trying to figure that out. There are all these spiky grafts and charts.”  
  
She opened her eyes to find him leafing through hopelessly. “Oh, just go the end. There has to be a summary.” She grabbed it back, reading aloud from the last page. ”Based on the results of the genetic systems, see figure one, two… blah, blah, blah… John Doe is the father of both Jason and Jennifer Doe…”  
  
“God, I knew it,” Clark breathed.  
  
Chloe turned to him, grabbing back her purse and stuffing the mail in. “I think we both did. I don’t even know what to do with this.”  
  
“I know. How do you tell someone that…”  
  
“You still want to tell her?”  
  
Clark blinked at her. “Chloe, what did we get this for if not to give it to her?”  
  
She stared at him for a long time. “We need to get to work.”  
  
*******************  
  
“What about the safe-drop?” Clark grunted.   
  
“We have it in paragraph two,” Chloe grunted back  
  
“But there’s not enough info. What if someone wants to use it or….”  
  
“Clark, this is a holiday piece. We can only glance over it. We can put an asterisk and include links at the bottom.” She sat back and rubbed her eyes, then looked across at him. He was staring at Tess’ office. “And stop looking that way. We are not...” She shut her mouth quickly. “We’re not doing the thing you think we should do,” she said before standing, moving to the break room.  
  
“Then why did we even bother?” he hissed, hot on her heels. “Why have it?”  
  
“Well… to have it.” She sifted through the tea. Only chamomile. No decent decaf. “To know why she is here and why she does the things she…”  
  
“But she doesn’t know she’s a Luthor,” he whispered, moving close behind her. “She needs to.”  
  
She glanced around, giving up on the tea and pulling him toward the copy room. “Why? She already has everything she would have had if this was revealed. Lex left her carte blanche on the whole…”  
  
“This isn’t about the estate or the business. She deserves to know where she came from and why she was brought here.”  
  
“And what if this has her really following in her predecessor’s footsteps. Clark, she could go after us even more than she already has.”  
  
“Chloe, what more can she do? Is she always trying to nose in? Yes. But we’re dealing with her. This isn’t about us. This is about what’s right. You know as well as I do that it would be wrong to hold this away from her.”  
  
She groaned and moved back to their desks. “Do we have a draft, here?”  
  
He sighed and sat back down. “I think we do.” He closed the document she’d sent him. “Just make a note to insert links and… I guess hyperlinks in the online edition so the programs…”  
  
“Way ahead of you.” She sent it to the printer, then stood, pulling her purse to the edge of her desk. “We can bring her that,” she dug in her purse and pulled out the STAR labs packet, “and this.”  
  
“What?”  
  
She strode to the printer, waiting for the pages.  
  
“Chloe, are you going to…”  
  
“You want to do it? Let’s do it. Get it over with.”  
  
“Now?”  
  
“You just said she deserves to know and also made me feel horribly guilty for sitting on this.” She took a deep breath. “I seriously don’t know if this is another case of pregnancy brain or if you’re right, but I don’t want to wait.”  
  
“But right now?”  
  
“It’s Christmas next week. Maybe we can consider this our little present to her.” She decisively plucked out their pages and moved to Tess’ office.  
  
“Chloe!”

 


	15. Chapter 15

_“I am Lazarus, come from the dead,  
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”_

 

Tess glanced up as Chloe Sullivan tossed open her office door, followed closely by Clark Kent. “Chloe, you can’t just…”  
  
“I’ve got our draft,” Chloe said over him, moving to her desk and putting down a stack of papers.  
  
Tess shrugged. “Good. I was wondering if you’d ever get it done.”  
  
“Well, you said to have it today.”  
  
“By today,” Tess corrected, pulling the small stack to her. “I was hoping you two would get it to me earlier, but I guess I was overestimating your work ethic.”  
  
Chloe laughed, which was off-putting.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Tess stared closely at her.  
  
“This. In general. You see, we’ve been working pretty hard. Just… not always on this. We have other scoops, you know.” Chloe moved to the window and pulled the blinds shut, which was also very off-putting. “Right now, I have a big one. I just don’t think I’ll see it in print, which seems to be the story of my life…”  
  
“Chloe, wait,” Clark cut in.  
  
“You said you wanted to do this,” she shot back at him.  
  
“Yes. But if we do this, we do it all the way – the right way.” He held up a hand, then left the room, leaving Chloe staring at Tess, one hand on the blinds, the other clutching some folded papers. It wasn’t long before he came back in, a briefcase in hand. “Okay. I know you’ve got this office monitored, so shut it off.”  
  
Tess shook her head as he placed it on her desk and opened it. “This is my office. Why would I…” She dropped the papers. “What are you two even…”  
  
“What is all that?” Chloe asked as Clark pulled a folder out of his briefcase.  
  
“My notes, clippings, copies.”  
  
Chloe gasped. “You saved all of it. You said you’d destroy everything that wasn’t story-related.”  
  
“I was thinking of sending it all anonymously,” he said, glancing at Tess.   
  
Chloe huffed. “But we didn’t discuss…”  
  
“I thought she deserved to know what we had, even if it didn’t turn out the way we thought.”   
  
Tess shook her head. “Know what?”  
  
He gave her a sad sort of smile. “Everyone deserves to know themselves. Are there recording devices in here?” he asked lowly, ignoring her question.  
  
“Of course there are. This is my office,” she repeated.  
  
“You need to turn them off. I don’t think you want this intercepted,” he said on a whisper. “There could be someone out there that could find a way to use this against you.”  
  
“I have no idea what you two are talking about.” Somehow, Tess wasn’t sure she wanted to know. This whole cloak-and-dagger routine had her on edge.   
  
“Look back on this last year, Tess,” Clark said tiredly, shutting his briefcase again. “I’ve saved your life even when you’ve made mine hell. And that’s not just some kind of policy for me. I like to think there’s hope for you. That you won’t turn into him, that you’ll see things the way they are. We have information that you – you personally – need to know, but I’m only giving it to you under two conditions.”  
  
“What do you think you have?” she whispered. Had they found Lex? Had they not only found him, but the things he was doing, the things he refused to tell her? But if they’d found him, surely they’d know she had a part in it. Or was this them disclosing Chloe’s not-so-well-hidden pregnancy? Chloe was openly rubbing her lower back even now. Was this…  
  
“First, the cameras and sound off,” Chloe sighed, moving to stand next to Clark. “He’ll be able to hear if they’re running.”  
  
Tess stared at them, facing her across her desk, then turned on her monitor, pulling up the control panel and shutting down the cameras, trying not to be nervous. She forced a laugh. “It’s refreshing that you actually admit Clark has certain extra…”  
  
“We have another condition,” Clark broke in, still clutching that briefcase. “You stop monitoring us. No more bugs at our desks or in the break room or…”  
  
“I have no idea…”  
  
“We’re not idiots, Mercer,” Chloe said, leaning heavily on the desk. “I know you might try to construe all this as your right as our employer, but keeping an eye on who’s IM-ing on company time is a far cry from bugging our nameplates and you know it. It stops now.”  
  
Tess had nothing to say to that and wasn’t sure it was something she would agree to. “Let me see if I have this right,” she finally said in measured tones. “Are you attempting to blackmail me?”  
  
“No,” Clark sighed. “We're trying to help you.”  
  
“And how does whatever’s in there,” she nodded at the briefcase, “help me?”  
  
“Everyone deserves to know who they really are,” he said softly.  
  
Her eyes widened. “And what do you think you know about me?”  
  
“More than you do, actually,” Chloe said, nodding. “See, we’ve been gathering information for this story and… Well, we've gathered more information on you every step of the way.”   
  
Tess' eyes narrowed. “So you have been using company time to…”  
  
“Don’t act like the injured party, here. You’ve been on us from the start. You wanted us here to keep an eye on us and…” Chloe stopped as Clark placed a hand on her shoulder, taking a deep breath. “You dug into us and we returned the favor, simple as that,” she finished more calmly.  
  
Clark opened the briefcase. “We started in Louisiana and worked backwards,” he said, his tone rather businesslike. “We managed to get your inoculation records and were able to figure out you started out in Metropolis.” He pulled out a folder. “At St. Louise’s.”  
  
She stared at the folder a long time before opening it, her eyes wide. “I could never,” she breathed, staring at the copies inside, “find anything. How did you…”  
  
“We’re good at what we do,” Chloe said evenly. “But it was you. You were at that home. There’s even a picture.”  
  
Tess leafed through the papers, breathing heavily. The print-out of that swingset. She knew she'd known that swingset. Her breath hitched as a photo of a little girl fell out, standing in front of a blackboard looking sullen -- a tiny thing with red hair and large eyes. Her eyes.   
  
“We weren’t the only ones who asked about you there,” Clark said.  
  
She glanced up at him, dazed. “Did you find my birth…” She stopped, shaking her head. “No. I don’t care. I don’t want to know. If they cared, they would have found me.”  
  
“But he did find you,” Clark said gently.

"He?"

“Lex tracked you down and hired you and watched you.” He leaned down slightly. “Tess, why do you think you were pulled out of a lab and put in charge of all this? Why do you think you were scouted and hired in the first place?”  
  
 _Because he saw something in me._  That was what Lex always said. He saw potential. He also implanted monitors in her eyes. No matter what he said now, it was hard to forget that. But lately they’d been so close, she’d started to think she could forgive… Her mind finally caught up, finally understood what they were saying. “That’s not… How did you even... There’s no way you could know if…”  
  
“There is,” Chloe said, opening that packet still in her hand. “You see, you can test shared paternity between siblings. We… Well, Clark actually took the liberty of getting cheek swabs and we sent them away.”  
  
She wasn’t sure if she felt horribly violated or horribly confused. “But how would you get Lex’s…”  
  
“Not Lex.” Chloe handed her the packet. "We didn’t share your names, but we tested you with Lucas.”  
  
“Lucas,” she said dully. “I read about him.”  
  
“Well… Maybe you should look him up,” Clark said, something like a smile. “I mean, you have a half-brother out there. That’s family. I mean, if you want him to be."  
  
“I don’t know what I want to…” Tess broke off, her eyes filling. “I don’t know what to do with this.”  
  
“That’s up to you, what you do with this.” Clark offered her a sad sort of smile. “We just thought you had a right to know.”  
  
“Yes. Thank you,” she said, barely thinking, staring at the blurring papers in front of her.   
  
“There’s probably one more thing you should know, though I guess you already do know.” It was Chloe speaking now.  
  
Tess glanced up, dazed. “There’s more?”  
  
“Nothing huge.” Chloe cradled her stomach. “I’m just going to need some time off in a few months, probably in March. I’ll look over policy as to how much time I’m entitled to and submit the forms to Karen.”  
  
“Good. You do that,” Tess whispered. She barely heard them leave, her mind was swimming. She had a brother out there somewhere. She had family, living family. She had a father in common with Lucas and… Her eyes narrowed and she crumpled the DNA test in her hand. She had another brother and she knew exactly where he was.   
  
She stood, gathering the papers and shoving them into her bag. She was in the mood for a little family reunion right now.  
  
********  
  
“That was tense,” Chloe breathed when they made it back to their desks.  
  
“Maybe because that was unplanned,” Clark grumbled.  
  
“And how were we supposed to plan it? Rehearse a pretty speech? Do a slide show? We told her and it’s done.”  
  
“I know. It’s just… Did you see the way she rushed out? Maybe we should have cushioned it somehow.” Clark frowned and picked up his nameplate and hers before dropping them into his briefcase.   
  
She supposed he’d destroy them. She wondered if they’d end up with new ones just as wired for sound. But, as Tess had to know they weren’t putting up with it anymore, she thought not. “There was no way to soften the blow.” Chloe shook her head and sat back. “She had no idea, though. I always thought she must know somehow, deep down…”  
  
“Not now,” Clark cut in. He nodded to his briefcase, as if to say they still shouldn’t be talking freely.  
  
“You’re right.” She sat up straighter. “Anyway, story’s in, whatever she does with it. I’ve got to finish up city hall and...”  
  
“And you have a form to fill out.” He stood and moved around to her desk. “I’m pretty much done the police blotter. So why don’t I finish that up for you and we can clock out early.”  
  
Chloe glanced toward the office, then back up at him. It was tempting. “Should we?”  
  
“Work’s in. Boss is out and I kind of think we’ve earned a half-day today.”  
  
“You just keep ending up right today, Clark Kent.”   
  
He chuckled and pulled out her chair. “Must be my day.”  
  
Chloe stood and winced.   
  
He stilled before taking her seat. “What? What is it? What’s…”  
  
“Nothing. Calm down,” she hissed. “It’s just my feet. These shoes are killing me.”  
  
Clark glanced down. “Why are you still wearing heels? I told you that you shouldn’t be…”  
  
“Because I still can,” she hissed at him before moving off.  
  
By the time they neared her place, her winces had turned to grimaces and Clark seemed to be torn between worry and an annoying sort of smugness. “I could run back to your place and get you something that doesn’t…”  
  
“No. It’s just for a few more blocks. I can handle it. Besides, I bought these last year and never took them out of the box. I’m not about to take them off until…”  
  
“Until they’re filled with your blood?”  
  
“It’s not that bad,” she lied. That had been true this morning. Her resolution to wear every shoe she could squeeze into that wasn’t downright orthopedic had seemed reasonable last week, even this morning. She did want to get her money’s worth. But as the day wore on, that squeeze had turned into a pinching vise grip that strengthened with every step. She fought the urge to grunt with every fashionable little click.  
  
“Nope. That’s it.”  
  
Her world spun for a moment and she found herself being hefted up. “Clark!”  
  
“Can’t take it anymore,” he said, striding forward, holding her like a damned baby.  
  
She secured her purse and glowered at him. “This is embarrassing.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “You just said it was just a few blocks. I think you can take it.”  
  
“You are so annoying today.”  
  
“I thought you said I was right about everything today.”  
  
“I knew that would go to your head.”  
  
“You know we did the right thing today. I might not have wanted to do it right then, though.”  
  
“Well, I was right about that. At least we got all that drama out of the way before Christmas.” She got ready for him to finally put her down when they approached her building. But no. He held on.  
  
“Keys?”  
  
“Are you nuts? Last I checked, you didn’t come equipped with extra hands. Put me down.”  
  
He grinned, but did so. He followed her up. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”  
  
She turned at her door. “Tess? I don’t know. I can’t think this would be bad news. She has an even more legitimate claim to the whole empire now and a brother. I didn’t have much interaction with Lucas, but he stayed far enough away that he has to be something close to normal, so…” She trailed off, staring at his briefcase, thinking of the bugged nameplates. “Should we even be talking so freely?"  
  
He shook his briefcase. “They’re done for. I took them up to the roof while you were finishing up with Karen.”  
  
She groaned and moved to her couch, dropping herself on it. “I’m more worried about Karen right now. I’ve seen her gossip about smaller things than this.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “Everyone’s going to know.”  
  
“To be fair, I think they already suspect.” He sat on the other end. “And they would have known for sure by next month.”  
  
She glared at him. “When I’m a whale, you mean?”  
  
Clark's eyes widened. “I never said…”  
  
“Oh, ignore me. I think these shoes are pinching my brain, too.” She started to bend over to get them, but that kind of thing was getting less and less comfortable these days.   
  
“Just let me.” Clark bent and pulled the shoes off with an exaggerated grunt.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
He chuckled and pulled her feet into his lap, rubbing lightly at the red marks. “You need to get some shoes that aren’t torture devices.”  
  
“I have some. They’re hideous.”  
  
He dug his thumbs into the balls of her feet. “I don’t know much about foot pain or high heels from experience, but it’s probably that all the weight is here.” He pressed a little.  
  
“That feels nice.”  
  
“Yeah?” He did it again, then on the other foot. “How’s that?”  
  
“Much better,” she sighed, leaning on the couch’s opposite arm and facing him. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to get one more day in a pretty shoe before it’s all rubber soled slip-ons or,” she shuddered, “Crocs.”  
  
“Maybe you can find pretty ones.”  
  
She closed her eyes and let out a hum as he rubbed at her heel. “It’s not even that. It’s that I’ll be short and stuck that way.”  
  
“I don’t see any problem with that. It fits you. It’s like how, when I hug you, I can tuck right under my chin. It fits me, too,” he said softly.  
  
She opened her eyes, letting out a long breath. One of his thumbs was grazing lightly over her ankle and she could feel it all over her. She wasn’t even sure he was aware what he was doing. But she was. And it needed to stop. “Maybe that’s enough,” she said, her voice shaky. She slipped her feet from his lap and sat up quickly. “You know, I’ll feel way better when I put my slippers on.” She stood and moved to her room. “Some slippers, some tea… Makes it all better.” She closed her door and sucked in a breath.   
  
Clark wanted her. If that one night, the way he was caressing her feet, and the fact that he seemed only too eager to talk about the idea of them was any indication, then that was pretty much a given. And, considering she was pacing her bedroom and rapidly fanning her face due to a footrub, she wanted Clark. So what was the problem? Hadn’t she had some kind of handle on what the problem was just this morning?  _Stupid pregnancy brain!_  
  
And that was it. That was the problem. Her hormones were going nuts right now and overriding all possibility of rational thought. She had to get past this. This was no time to be climbing all over him like she really, _really_ wanted to. She should tell him to go.  
  
“I could make you some tea,” she heard him call through the door.  
  
“Thanks. That would be great.”  _What?_   Well, she said she wanted tea, didn’t she? What was the harm in him fixing her a little something hot and steamy?   
  
Her cell rang from the living room.   
  
“Oh, thank God!” She stuffed her feet into her slippers and threw open the door.  
  
Clark called from her kitchen. “Did you want me to…”  
  
“No. I got it. It’s Dinah,” she mumbled, staring at the caller ID. That’s what she needed right now – Dinah to talk her out of this. “Hi. I seriously need your help right now,” she hissed without preamble.  
  
Dinah laughed.  _“I was just going to say the same thing to you.”_  
  
“Why?”  
  
 _“Oliver’s staying till Christmas Eve. Just business stuff and I am going insane stuck in Star City and I don’t want to abuse jet privileges. Could you look me up a cheap flight sometime tonight? You’re good at that kind of thing.”_  
  
“Sure. That’s no problem.”   
  
 _“So what’s your problem?”_  
  
She took a deep breath. “Clark’s here.”  
  
 _“So? Isn’t that pretty much an everyday occurrence?”_  
  
“It’s different,” she whispered frantically. “We haven’t talked about… I mean, I haven’t told anyone, not even Sarah and I don’t know what…”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
And that was exactly the problem. She turned to find Clark in her tiny kitchen’s doorway, holding two boxes.  
  
“I’ve got English breakfast or decaf chai, but you’re out of that vanilla creamer and I know you only like chai with…”  
  
“Either’s fine, thanks,” she cut in hurriedly.  
  
“But is milk…”  
  
“Milk’s fine,” she said, then apologetically gestured to the phone.  
  
“Oops. Sorry.”  
  
Dinah sighed over the phone.  _“I kind of want my own personal servant, too. You think Clark can train Oliver?”_  
  
“That’s the problem. He’s making me tea and carrying me to my door and rubbing my feet,” Chloe whispered.   
  
Dinah chuckled.  _“My God, that boy wants to sleep with you so hard. I told you.”_  
  
“I need to get him out of here and I keep… not doing it.”  
  
 _“Because you don’t want to. Let me warn you now, the pampering stops as soon as they get you in bed. Maybe not right after, but a few weeks in and…”_  
  
“He’s not getting me into bed. I’m not… Maybe we kissed a little, but…”  
  
 _“You kissed?”_  Dinah gasped.  _“I kinda want you to kick him out right this second and tell me everything. Maybe it’s enough to be right... for now.”_  
  
“No. You’re… You’re just a little bit right. Clark’s not like that.”  
  
She snorted.  _“So if you stripped off your clothes right now, he’d run away, virtue aflutter?”_  
  
“No, he’d run away in horror because I’m a giant potato. But I mean he’s not doing all this to get me into bed.” Of course, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t object. Neither would she. Was her room too messy right now or… “No, I can’t do this. I need to think straight. I need how to learn to be alone with him without… Just help me,” she finished on a groan.  
  
 _“Okay. You’re obviously upset. Here’s what you do…”_  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
 _“You just sit Clark down…”_  
  
“Okay.”  
  
 _“And then you sit on his lap…”_  
  
“Dinah…”  
  
 _“Then you stick your tongue down his throat.”_  
  
“This is not helping.”  
  
 _“Well, I think it would help the both of you out a lot.”_  
  
“You don’t get it. He wants to talk about us and if there’s an us and I don’t think I’m up to it and yesterday I almost cut all my hair off except I couldn’t find the scissors and there’s just too much…”  
  
 _“Okay. You’re stressed. I get it. You know what might help you relax?”_  
  
“If you say sex, I swear…”  
  
 _“Well, you want to!”_  
  
“Of course I want to! I’m turned on every damned second! I can barely be around him! That doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him!”  
  
There was a muffled crunching noise behind her.  
  
“Dinah, I’ll call you back,” she said quickly before hanging up. She took a deep breath before turning around.   
  
Clark was standing there, dripping pieces of her mug in his hand.  
  
“That was a conversation that… It’s not what it sounds like. You see, I was… I was just talking to Dinah about symptoms and… See, this is like what I was saying with pregnancy brain and weird thoughts and… It’s not about you.”   
  
“It sounded like it might have been a little bit about me,” he said dully.  
  
“See, that’s because you just heard that part and…” She stopped, forcing a laugh. “You know, I’ve never considered myself an overtly sexual person and, at the moment… See, that’s why it’s funny. Because this is all happening now, when I’m like this fat load and…”  
  
“I don’t think you’re fat,” he said, still just standing there.   
  
“Thanks, but you know, you didn’t exactly hear that right. I was talking about being… um…”  
  
“Turned on?”  
  
“Just in general,” she said quickly. “Just because of all the hormone stuff. It doesn’t mean I want you to…”  
  
“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you did. I just. Sorry that’s… um… happening to you,” he finished awkwardly. “If you need any help with…” He stopped, his eyes widening. “I should clean this up.”  
  
“I can get it. You know, you should go. You probably have things to do and…”  
  
“Oh, definitely. I mean… Yeah. I mean, you know, it’s cold out and I’ve been meaning to check on the…” He snapped his fingers.  
  
“Animals,” she finished for him.  
  
“Yeah. Them. Okay.” He moved to the couch and picked up his briefcase. He stopped in front of her, seemed to start holding out his hand as if to shake hers.   
  
Even worse, she almost moved to do the same before they both laughed and moved around each other.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“So will I… see you... at that time.”  _Just stop talking!_  She quickly pasted on a closed-mouth smile and kept it on until he was on the other side of her door. “My God! Will you get it together?” she growled at herself before dropping to the couch and pulling a pillow over her face.  
  
************  
  
Tess caught sight of her face in the mirror above the bar. She barely recognized it. All she could see right now was pieces of Luthor, all falling into place.  
  
 _Oval lips, just a little thick on top (Lex), a high forehead with a widow’s peak (Lionel), gray-blue eyes (Lex), thick hair and a straight nose (Lionel) with a slight upturn (Lex), a rounded chin…_  
  
Lex and Lionel both had pointed chins. She’d seen only a tiny image of Lucas when she’d first taken over here and didn’t bother to look closer. Maybe Lucas had her rounded chin from some buried Luthor ancestor. Or was that from her mother? Who was her mother? She’d never asked. Then again, there were no results in the packet for her mother. She knew. She’d read everything over and over, getting drunker and drunker as she waited for Lex. Maybe Lex knew. Or maybe Lucas knew.  
  
Right now, she just wanted Lex to show up. It was getting dark. She’d texted him hours ago, not trusting herself to call, saying she wanted to have dinner together. He’d said he’d be back by then. She didn’t know where he was – yet another deep, dark secret she wasn’t allowed to know. Her glass shook in her hand and she stilled it with the other before taking another sip, Lex’s words from months ago echoing in her mind.  
  
 _Little pointer, limit your drinking. I probably spent most of my last two years here half-bombed and I think it showed._  
  
She took another sip as she didn’t much feel like taking his advice at the moment. All this time, she’d wondered what it was about him that spoke to her, what this strange sort of connection between them meant. And now she knew. And it was as humiliating as it was enlightening.  
  
The teasing, the strange, almost needy looks from him, the dinners, the “quality time.” That was all brotherly bonding. Unfortunately, as he was a Luthor, it was all tied up in deceit. She’d read Lionel’s journals, the entries about Lex, about what he could and couldn’t know. She knew the mindset. Even those stark moments of sincerity were tinged with some kind of control over her. He was more like his father than he thought.   
  
She glanced up as the low whirring of the elevator broke the silence. He was here. She’d been so intent on waiting for him, rehearsing how to start, how to control the conversation, how to inflict pain on him if she possibly could. Yet, when the doors opened, she just felt tired of Luthors– tired of thinking about them, thinking like them.   
  
He smiled when he moved in. She wondered why, then realized she didn’t care.  
  
“Where were you?”  
  
Lex stilled, chuckling. “It’s not even five. Am I late? Are you keeping dinner hours with the elderly or…”  
  
“No. I just wanted to know where you were, where you go,” she said baldly, topping off her drink. She might need more to get through this. “See, I know keep saying you’ll tell me when I’m ready, but then I wonder what it takes. What makes me ready to know the truth, Lex?”  
  
“You’re drunk.”  
  
“And I’m not even talking about your mysterious doings,” she went on, taking a rather defiant sip. “I’m just talking about simple truths. Why me? Why did I get,” she thought of Clark’s words, “plucked out of a lab and put in charge of all this?” She gestured vaguely around her. “You’ve never given me a solid reason. I mean, I know about the way you used me as your little video viewer. But that doesn’t answer everything. Why me in the first place, Lex?”  
  
“I saw… potential in you. Competence, even, though that’s not apparent at the moment. Maybe I should order some coffee with dinner.” He picked up the phone.  
  
“And why dinner?” she pressed on, moving toward him. “Is it some kind of mentor/mentee bonding exercise?”  
  
“You really don’t like feeling left out, do you?” He rolled his eyes and started dialing.   
  
She slapped the phone out of his hand. “No. You answer me. I’m giving you one last chance to answer me,” she growled.  
  
He sighed, giving her a rather pitying look that only made her angrier. “Maybe it’s your childhood. Maybe I’m just sympathetic to the plights of orphan girls.”  
  
She slapped his face, then. “Don’t. Don’t make me some charitable act of yours. I know there’s more than that…”  
  
“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” he broke in.  
  
“Maybe it’s because we share a father, Lex,” she sneered. “Is that why?”  
  
He paled. She saw it. “Exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?”  
  
“Not enough for this.” She moved unsteadily to the glass table, the papers spread all over it. “You can’t deny it. I don’t know how you knew when I could never find anything, but I have it now. Saint Louise, Star Labs, my own damned picture, so many things that finally…”  
  
“How did you find all this?” He moved to the table quickly, shaking his head.  
  
She didn’t find it. Clark and Chloe did. But something told her he didn’t need to know that. “Does it matter?” She picked up the packet from Star Labs and shoved it at him. “It all led to this. A DNA match between siblings.”  
  
He stared at it. “You took my…”  
  
“Not yours. Lucas.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Now I wonder why not him? Why didn't you drag him into this?”  
  
“He doesn’t want it,” Lex said dully, staring at the results. “And I don’t want him. The minute Lionel passed, he came out as a club promoter,” he said, spitting out the last two words in distaste.  
  
She slapped the papers out of his hands. “Forget him. Look at me and tell me why… why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Why would you even want to know?” he hissed. “Do you want this name? Most of my life has been spent living down this fucking name! My father…”  
  
“No! Don’t deflect this onto Lionel. This is about you and me. All this time, I had it wrong and I… For fuck’s sake, that night I thought you wanted to… You just gave me that vague bullshit about keeping things professional, but you could have just told me then.”  
  
“I couldn’t.”  
  
“Why the hell not? Don’t you think it would have made this easier on me, understanding why I felt this closeness to you? I had it so confused with this crush…” She stopped, her eyes widening on him. “You sick bastard!”  
  
“What…”  
  
“You wanted me confused. You wanted my little schoolgirl crush intact,” she breathed. “You knew about it and you let me feel that way.”  
  
“That’s not…”  
  
“It made it easier, didn’t it? It made me loyal. Maybe, if I knew I had some claim to all this, I wouldn’t be so blindly obedient and grateful!”  
  
“You don’t have claim to all this, Tess,” he broke in. “Blood doesn’t give you any of the privileges of legitimacy. You think Lucas could leave his plastic world and land here and just take over? He couldn’t have, not without me making it happen. But I never thought of passing this on to him. Not for a second. He’s not like us. He never looks deeper. But I never doubted you. I was about to let the whole thing revert to the shareholders, then I found you and it changed everything. It changed my will. I chose you, Tess. I found you and I gave you everything you should have had!”  
  
“Not the truth,” she said on a broken whisper. “That’s the worst part, Lex. If I knew, I would have stayed. If you told me, I would have stood by you through anything.” She drew in a shaky breath. “You talk about pitying the poor orphaned girl, but do you even know how it was in my family? I was always alone, always unsafe, always dreaming of finding who I was and thinking it has to be better. And it’s not,” she finished on a sob. She gathered the papers, shoving them into her bag.  
  
His hand touched her arm. “Tess…”  
  
“No. Let me go.”  
  
“Let me call you a car. We can talk tomorr…”  
  
“I don’t want anything else from you,” she growled, clutching her bag. “I’ll get a cab. I’ll pack up my things by the end of the week.”  
  
“You’re not going to get anyone to move you this close to Christmas,” he said dully.  
  
“Christmas,” she said on a sneer as she stormed to the elevator. “I almost forgot. Merry Christmas to me.”  
  
*********  
  
Christmas morning was never as good for grownups. Chloe laid in bed just before seven, listening to the squeals below her. They had a larger unit and two kids and she just bet at least one of them had gotten just what they wanted. She knew that feeling, wishing and hoping for that one special thing and finding it there… half the time.  
  
Her dad didn’t always get it right. She remembered, one particular year, she’d wanted the Play-doh Snack Shop. No real reason why. She supposed she was just fascinated by all the gadgets and presses, making fake burgers and fries. But it wasn't under the tree, come Christmas day. And she suspected, even then, that it had something to do with her father grumbling as he tried to scrape the stuff out of the carpets the last time she had anything Play-doh related. At the time, she thought Santa was taking pity on him, saving him the work.  
  
But her dad did well enough. The first Christmas after her mom left, she said she didn’t care and he said he didn’t care. So she went to bed Christmas Eve without even a tree and woke up to a fully decorated living room complete with a fake cardboard fireplace in their old apartment and presents stacked high and balloons everywhere. She remembered kicking through them to find him asleep on the couch before she woke him to excitedly tell him what Santa had done the night before.   
  
And he let her think it, let her believe in it. She was long past believing in that, even with that strange coincidence back in 2006 where she'd been almost positive she'd had an encounter with Santa. It was kid’s stuff. But she rather loved that Gabriel Sullivan let her believe as long as possible. Even up to her teen years, she woke to that mysteriously decorated living room, wading through a sea of balloons to her father on the couch, waking up and pretending to be so surprised.  
  
She turned to her nightstand and pulled her phone to her. The last she knew, he was in Big Bear, managing a ski resort. She’d memorized the number, 909-555-4102, transferred it from phone to phone to phone, but not without much idea of calling it. Maybe just for someone to find, so they could tell him if this dangerous life led her where she always feared. She pulled the number up, wondering if he was still there, wondering if she should just check and make sure…  
  
Her finger pressed down before she had decided to let it and she heard it ringing. She started to hang up when she heard his voice. “It’s Kansas, it’s Chloe. It has to be… Chloe?”  
  
She could only stare at it as his tinny voice went on.  
  
“Chloe? Is that you?”  
  
She pressed the end button with a gasp. He answered. The other times, she got his voice mail. Sure, it was past midnight in California, but she rather hoped he wasn’t answering on purpose. That maybe he knew her life wasn’t something to be mixed up in. He hadn’t come to her wedding, after all. She hadn’t blamed him, had almost been relieved for him, after what happened.  
  
Who had he been talking to?  
  
She stared at her phone, wondering if he’d call back. It was silent. That was for the best. He didn’t need to be mixed up in all this. She placed a hand on her stomach and hefted herself up, shivered as the covers fell away. It was damned cold now. When she went to bed, she felt overheated.  _Stupid hormones._  
  
They’d messed with more than her internal temperature this last week. She could hardly look at Clark. He was no better. They’d spent the whole week, up to yesterday at three, when The Planet closed down for a day and a half, avoiding looking, touching, apologizing if they so much as bumped arms. It was silly and she knew it and he knew it, but she doubted either of them knew what else to do. She wanted to jump his bones, he wanted to talk about the future. There was no happy middle ground here.  
  
She pushed the thought away as she moved through her living room and past the tiny fake tree in front of her biggest window. Clark had insisted, even offered to get her a real one, but she didn’t relish the thought of vacuuming up pine needles. Besides, the one at Headquarters was big enough that Clark had to rip the top off just to fit it in the commissary. They’d have a nice enough holiday together. Everyone would be there. Well, Emil was visiting family again, but Sarah said she’d be there.  
  
Sarah was effusively grateful for all the attention their story was gaining for the youth center. Chloe was almost surprised it had ended up published. Tess hadn’t been in all week. Karen said she was keeping tabs on things from her home office, taking an extended Christmas break.  
  
Chloe wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Clark had, of course, gone to his default feeling: guilt. He seemed to think they’d put too much on her at once. Chloe kept pointing out that maybe this was a good thing, maybe Tess was taking a healthy break to process everything. Strangely, she didn’t worry about Tess. As much as the monitoring and the sneaky, Luthory ways annoyed her, there was something in Tess, something strong and maybe just a little heartier than in Lex. A woman couldn’t survive Tess’ life so far without being just a little bit adaptable.  
  
She was in the middle of rejecting all the work of eggs and trying to figure out if mini donuts were an acceptable breakfast when there was a loud buzz from her door.  
  
She groaned and moved to it, pressing the button. There was only one person that would be bothering her this early. “Merry Christmas, Bart,” she said as she held the button down.  
  
“Nope. Taller,” a tinny, but feminine voice came back.  
  
“You are not!” It was definitely Bart this time. “And stop ruining it, Dinah. One… two… three…”  
  
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”  
  
Chloe backed away and pressed the button to let them in, her ears ringing. It was going to be an exhausting day. She could tell already.

***************************

_And indeed there will be time  
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”_  
  
 ******************************  
  
Chloe threw open the door to Bart alone. She suspected Dinah was somewhere behind.   
  
“Little early, don’t you think?” she said on a yawn.  
  
“None of those lame asses would get up and we saw you moving and we figured…”  
  
“We?” Dinah grunted, kicking open the stairwell door with her arms full. “I was the one who said it and I’m still the one doing all the work with all the bags!”  
  
“Fine,” Bart sighed, rushing back to her and taking the bags. He sped past Chloe as Dinah shook herself.   
  
“My present’s kind of something you need before the festivities.” Dinah moved to Chloe, pulling a sprig of mistletoe from her pocket and holding it over Chloe’s head. “Merry Christmas,” she said, pecking Chloe’s cheek.  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Chloe said on a laugh, pecking her right back.  
  
“Hey! Don’t you ladies have all the fun without me ,” Bart said, dropping the bags near the tree and moving quickly to Dinah and Chloe, staring closely between them. “Feel free to keep kissing each other.”  
  
“Creep,” Dinah groaned, flicking his forehead as she moved in.  
  
Bart was staring at the mistletoe. “Hey, can I hold onto that for you today?”  
  
“No.” Dinah bent to the bags, digging through them.  
  
“I swear, I will only use its power for good – and hilarity.”  
  
“Will you just toast these?” She tossed him a bag, then smiled at Chloe. “I made him go on a bagel run.”  
  
“I’ve made that my present to you, Babydoll, and it was  _not_  an easy feat today,” Bart called out, already in the little kitchen. “No one’s open in this state. I had to go to New York.”  
  
“Like that’s so hard for you.” Dinah grinned and pulled out a box, holding it out to Chloe. “Okay. I know Christmas is supposed to be about giving people what they want and not what you want to give them, but I had to. It’s going to look so cute and you wouldn’t let me get it before and…”  
  
“Oh, God. The sailor dress,” Chloe said dully.   
  
“With the little red tie,” Dinah added rapturously.   
  
“It’s infantile.”  
  
“No! It’s sweetly nautical. Please, please, please wear it today. I promise I won’t bug you about anything else. I won’t say a word about you and Clark or…”  
  
“Ooh! What about her and Clark?” Bart wanted to know, speeding out of the kitchen and to the couch and resting his head on his hand, as if waiting.  
  
“They want to sex each other up, but refuse to do anything about it.”  
  
“Dinah!” Chloe gasped.  
  
“Well, everyone knows! Besides, you’re not wearing it yet!”  
  
************  
  
Chloe had to admit, the dress looked slightly better now that she was able to fill it out, so to speak. When Dinah first made her try it on, she felt like an orphan Shirley Temple in an ill-fitting uniform. But she did wish Dinah hadn’t also insisted on curling her hair and adding a red bow. It only added to the Temple-esque vibe.  
  
But everyone else seemed to think it was  _just too cute_.   
  
“You look just precious,” Martha sighed on seeing her.   
  
“Doesn’t she just?” Dinah agreed, fluffing her hair as Chloe tried to wave her away.  
  
Oliver just chuckled when he came in after Martha.  
  
“Don’t,” Chloe warned him.   
  
“Don’t what?” He grinned as he moved to her. “So is the good ship lollipop docking today or…”  
  
“Yes. Hilarious. It was a present, okay?” Also blackmail.  
  
He laughed again. “Well, it does look just precious.”  
  
“I can go home, you know,” she groaned.   
  
“Oh, come on.” Oliver squeezed her arm. “So you get picked on a little. That’s how you know you’re one of us.”   
  
She nodded to the kitchen. “Does that make Bart the most decorated member of the team?”  
  
“I’m serious. I don’t know if it’s the holidays that make me say all this dreck, but I want you to know we’re here for you,” he glanced down at her stomach, “whatever happens.”  
  
She blinked at him. “Whatever happens?”  
  
He glanced around before leaning down to her. “This isn’t the time to talk about it. I mean, I can’t say for sure if there’s anything to talk about, not with Emil out of town again. But we have some ideas.”  
  
She found her hand cradling her stomach. “What ideas?”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s Christmas. Forget I said anything. Just… I’ve got a good feeling.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “And everything’s going to be fine,” he said before moving away. “Please tell me there’s a turkey,” he said loudly. “I heard Bart talking about ham and it's scaring me.”  
  
“You just had turkey a month ago,” Dinah groaned.  
  
“So? Christmas means more turkey.”  
  
“Relax. Bart’s doing a small turkey as well as…”  
  
Chloe turned away from them, from the tree, from the dinner talk. She wasn’t sure she shared Oliver’s  _good feeling_. She also didn’t know if she wanted to hear about these ideas. Sometimes, everything about this pregnancy felt so normal that she forgot there was anything else to it. She preferred to live in those moments, when the big worry was that she kept waking up at odd hours and fighting to get back to sleep… which she rarely could.  
  
 _God,_  she was tired. She thought of that couch in her old room, now Bart’s game room… or everyone’s, but it was usually Bart in there. She wondered if anyone would mind if she just went upstairs till dinner was…  
  
“Clark!” It was Martha’s voice. Chloe turned to watch her rush to her son as he dropped his bags to catch her. “I knew you’d be late. I bet you were wrapping presents at the very last second.”  
  
“I actually still have to,” he grumbled as he hugged her back, then on her laugh, “Well, I couldn’t find the tape. All the stuff in the house keeps hiding without you there to keep it in line.”  
  
Martha ruffled his hair. “You’re hopeless. I’ll see if Victor has any.”  
  
“Don’t worry. They’ll look better without me wrapping them.” Clark glanced at Chloe. Then stifled a laugh.  
  
“Shut up,” she hissed, moving to him and leaning in. “Listen, I put this on for Dinah. And, if you knew why, you’d stop with the chuckles. I am saving the both of us from a full day of humiliation in front of your mother.” She nodded to Dinah. “She knows too damned much.”  
  
Clark glanced at Dinah. “You mean from what you told her? I mean, maybe you should stop telling Dinah things.”  
  
“I barely told her anything! And there isn’t anything to tell!”  
  
“I’m not saying there is, but I did hear you say some stuff,” he finished rather awkwardly.  
  
“Well, that was just… You know, I was mostly joking.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” He stiffened. “Hilarious. I mean, especially the part about how I turn you on all the time.”  
  
“Your mother is right there,” Chloe hissed.  
  
“I know that,” he grumbled lowly. “I’m just saying…”  
  
“I thought we agreed not to talk about it.”  
  
“No, we didn’t. We just haven’t talked about it. Like at all,” he said, sort of pouted, really. “Because you keep avoiding it.”  
  
“I’m avoiding it?” she whispered, annoyed. “You’re the one who keeps acting like I’ve got cooties or…”  
  
“Me? I’m just following your lead. You barely even look at me and I didn’t even do anything except hear you talking about me,” he finished on a harsh whisper before moving away. “I’m just saying.”  
  
He didn’t say anything else, but he did keep looking at her and it was unnerving. It seemed like all afternoon, every time she turned around, there were Clark’s eyes. She kept herself well away from him, especially when Bart started with a little game he called “MISTLETOE ATTACK.”  
  
He’d just speed up and yell it, holding it over whatever two people happened to be sitting next to each other and declare they had to kiss. She suspected Dinah’s fingerprints were all over it. Just because Dinah said she’d say nothing today didn’t mean she wasn’t going to mess around with the status quo.  
  
Of course, Chloe did find it hilarious when it was Oliver and John, who both looked so pained as they reluctantly kissed each other’s cheeks. But she found it horribly intriguing when it came to Victor and Sarah, who hemmed and hawed for a full minute before Bart gave up and moved on.  
  
He hadn’t caught her and Clark, though. Chloe made sure of it, always putting people and space between them, even to the point of offering to do dishes.  
  
That was where Clark found her, reaching over her shoulder and turning the hot knob all the way up before pulling her away. “I keep telling you, it’s quicker my way.”  
  
She just stood there, frozen, feeling him against her back as the giant sink steamed up. “You know, I did offer to do the dishes.”  
  
“I just thought I’d save you the trouble,” he said softly, lips very close to her ear. “Chloe, why are we doing this?”  
  
She sagged against him just a little. “Well, there are lots of dishes and…”  
  
“We’re not kids anymore. We’re not teenagers who can’t figure out what we’re feeling. I think we know.”  
  
“Clark, we don’t know. At least I don’t.” She moved away from him. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a mess of hormones and my decisions aren’t…”  
  
“Yes. Pregnancy brain. You keep talking about it like it’s some form of possession.”  
  
She whirled on him. “Well, maybe it is!”  
  
His eyes bored into hers. “So that’s the only thing turning you on with me ‘every damned second’? Outside of that, I’m barely on your radar?”  
  
She held his stare. “Don’t get cute. You know what you do to the average woman.”  
  
He shook his head. ”You’re not the average woman.”  
  
“Case in point. I’m not in the average situation and I can’t just jump into the pool like…”  
  
“How would we be jumping into anything? We’ve been checking the damned temperature for years and always backing away and… Chloe, why can’t we jump in?” He moved to her and she backed away. He put his hands up. “I’m not trying to pressure you into anything.”  
  
“Then stop… looking at me and… and doing things for me and being so… so… Just stop!”  
  
“I’m not doing what I do because I want to sleep with you,” he hissed. “Jesus, Chloe! I’d do anything for you no matter what!”   
  
She tore her eyes away from his. “I know. I’m sorry. I mean, I know almost all of what you do is without any reward at all. You’re just that kind of…”  
  
“No,” he cut in. “Maybe I should be clearer – I want to sleep with you. I think you need to know that.”  
  
She met his eyes again, hers widening. “You want to sleep with me?”  
  
“Little more than that,” he said with a pained smile. “Even with that stupid dress on you. Just wanted to put that out there.”  
  
She blinked at him. “You… can’t just say…”  
  
“I’m being honest.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s the holidays, but I’m tired of dancing around this like kids. We’re adults. And you should know that you and naked versions of you are pretty much the only things I think about lately. Even if you think you’re a whale and even if it’s the worst possible time and even…”  
  
“Just stop,” she broke in, shutting off the hot water as it was coating them in tendrils of steam by now and just confusing the feel of the room in general. “This isn’t something you need to take care of for me or save me from,” she said firmly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You keep doing this. You keep trying to give me just… whatever I need and this is taking it to ridiculous...”  
  
“Presents!”  
  
They both turned to the door, where Bart was fairly bouncing.  
  
“It’s present time, present time, present time!” Bart said before rushing back out, leaving the door swinging.  
  
Clark shook his head several times. “Leave the dishes. I’ll get them later.” He sighed and moved to the door to stop it. “Something tells me it’s present time.”  
  
****************************  
  
It was time. Way past it, really.  
  
Tess looked at the boxes piled in the entryway and wished she’d left long before this. Lex had offered her walking papers and a healthy severance a half-year ago and she wished she’d taken it.   
  
It didn’t help. In the much more sober nights since she confronted Lex, she’d realized that knowing who she was, genetically at least, changed nothing. She had family, she supposed, but it was Lex. And, though she supposed a lot of his gestures to her could be mistaken for affection, the way he had to control everything, up to and including what she was allowed to know, left her feeling cold and alone, more so than usual.  
  
Maybe Lucas would be the better bet. Maybe her mother… whoever she might be. Lex said Lucas lived an ordinary life, as if that was something to sneer at. Maybe it was the holidays, but she craved that right now. A simple, ordinary dinner shared with people who genuinely cared for you. Maybe Lex would see that as a weakness, but right now it was something she wished she’d had just once in her life.  
  
Holidays at the Mercer house had always been contentious. It started with the one where she found out she wasn’t a Mercer at the tender age of ten and was never allowed to forget it since. Her “father” made sure of that. She supposed her “mother” had wanted her – or any child as some desperate attempt to have some idyllic family, as if Tess was supposed to be the bandaid and fix the fact that she married a violent drunk. It didn’t work, obviously.  
  
Jake Mercer kept drinking. Mary Ellen Mercer, after an “accidental” fall down the stairs ended up escaping into oxycontin, also known as hillbilly heroin. As for Tess, she just escaped as quickly as she could. Her teachers had called her a genius for getting a full ride into Harvard by fifteen. They just didn’t know her unique motivation.   
  
Then again, maybe she was being too hard on herself. Lex kept saying he saw potential in her. Clark said there was hope for her. She didn't want to think of either of them at the moment. She wanted to think about that ordinary life. The one she’d been fantasizing about before Lex came out of the shadows. That cabin in the mountains, high and cool and dry and isolated and disgustingly modern with giant picture windows both east and west, catching both sunrise and sunset every day.  
  
She moved through the hall, still hating the stained glass windows, even the ones that faced full west let in barely a sliver of the setting sun. What had Lionel been thinking, carting a monstrosity like this across an ocean? There’d been some business about The Traveler in his diary, but did he need to bring it here? Surely, a few vacations in Scotland would have sufficed.  
  
Of course, she couldn’t ask him about any of that. He was gone. And her brother, half-brother at least, was the one who made it happen. As much as she shied away from letting Lex tell her about it that one night, she knew he'd done it. She even knew he wanted to talk about it, confess as it were, unburden himself to her. But she didn't want to think about it then.  
  
She didn't want to think about it now, damn it! She sat on the stairs, staring at the boxes and wishing this were any day but Christmas so she could hire a team and get them stored. Then she could find that cabin, that normal life, maybe find Lucas and her mother while she was at it.   
  
Maybe she could leave the stuff. It was mostly clothes and knick knacks, all bought with Luthor money. Then again, she was owed this and more. The severance deal would still stand. If Lucas was allowed to use Luthorcorp resources to promote clubs in Los Angeles, which he had as she’d looked into it, then she could get a measly severance deal after all she’d been forced to deal with.  
  
She’d turned off her cell and hadn’t taken Lex’s calls on the land-line this week. Maybe she should, just to make sure she could still get out of this mess. She’d only taken calls from The Planet this week. That was the one part of this mess she’d miss. As much as she hadn’t thought of herself as a media mogul, it was the one thing she’d found satisfaction in.   
  
It didn’t matter. Having a simple life could be just as satisfying. If Lex wouldn’t give her what she was owed, then it would just be something to work towards. Hadn’t she worked her way out of a swamp house? There wasn’t so far to go now. She leaned against the stairs and closed her eyes, trying to see that cabin again – if it could be called that. It was getting bigger and bigger in her mind, filled with books, all fiction, and maybe even dvds. She never did get to watch much TV, news aside, in all her life. Would she be a comedy girl or more into political drama? She’d certainly had her fill of science fiction for a good long time. Maybe reality TV. She kept hearing about the Kardashians and had never bothered to look up who they were and why anyone cared what they did. Maybe now…  
  
Her eyes fell open sharply at a shuffling noise. The way things echoed in this cavernous house, it could be anywhere. But it seemed close. She stood and moved carefully toward it. No staff for Christmas. And her gun was in the study. Unfortunately, the study seemed to be where it was coming from. She moved down the hall and was just closing her hand around the neck of a heavy looking statue on a hall table when the study door flew open.  
  
And it was Lex. “Good. You’re still here.”  
  
She didn’t loosen her grip on that statue.  
  
“I didn’t want you traveling for this,” he went on. “The visual component wouldn’t have the same effect on mobile devices. Come on.” He moved back into the study.  
  
“Visual component?” She dragged the heavy statue with her into the study. “How did you even get in? The guards…”  
  
“Underground tunnels. Did you even glance at a blueprint in all this time?” He moved to a stand and pulled down a white screen, securing it to the base. “I used to think that was how Clark got in before… Well, before I knew differently."  
  
She stared at the screen, the projector on her desk, a laptop he was plugging into it. “What is all this?”  
  
“What I texted you. What I promised.”   
  
She could only stare at him blankly.   
  
He sighed and leaned on the desk. “I know you’re not taking my calls, but did you even read my texts?”  
  
“No.” She lifted her chin. “I’m done.”  
  
“I told you. If you could just give me time to get back, then I could give you…” He shrugged. “I’d call it a Christmas present, but it’s more than that. It’s something you deserve: the truth, Tess.”  
  
She let the statue slip from her hands, drop to the carpet with a thud so heavy she knew it would leave a dent in the wood floor. She didn’t care about that. And she didn’t care about this. “I know all I need to. I know you manipulated me this entire time. I want that severance package and I want to leave.”  
  
“Just hear me out first,” he cut in quickly – and rather desperately, she thought.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Tess, if you want to leave after ten minutes, I will give you two million cash and freedom from Luthorcorp and all companies associated with…”  
  
“No! You think whatever you have to say will keep me from leaving. I want the severance and I want to go,” she repeated.  
  
“Interesting. You won’t even hear me out?” He smiled. “Maybe you know that, whatever I’m about to tell you, you won’t want to go. And you won’t. I can tell you all…”  
  
“I’m willing to leave with nothing, Lex,” she broke in. “So maybe I should just do that.” She spun on her heel and moved down the hall.   
  
“Damn it, Tess! You wanted to know why I think Oliver Queen has some sway over the two of them? I can tell you that! You want to know where I go? I can tell you that, too! I’ll make it three million and I'll tell you everything if you just… just don’t leave,” he finished, softer at the end. But his voice still echoed down the hall and reached her.  
  
And she stopped. She didn’t mean to. But something in that voice needed her. She could feel alone all she wanted, but she could fix that if she wanted. She could let someone in. She even had, at various times. Lex… Well, she wasn’t sure if he could. Maybe she really was all he had. Or maybe she was using that as some excuse to know everything. He’d said  _everything._  
  
She turned, focused on the one part of the mystery that concerned her on a personal level – at least in the past and, at board meetings, in the present. “What about Oliver Queen?”  
  
Lex let out a long breath. “This is the part where the visual aids might help,” he said before moving back into the study.  
  
She followed. She hated that she did, after last time. She stayed and was mired in even more non-answers than before. Yet she told herself that she would leave easily this time if this turned out to be more of the same. “I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said, hovering in the doorway.  
  
“That’s all I need.” He gestured to the desk as he fooled with the projector.  
  
She moved behind the desk and sat, folded her hands in front of her, trying to appear bored and barely tolerating this even as everything inside her was screaming for answers. She nearly jumped when he started speaking.  
  
“Oliver Queen,” he said as a picture jumped to the screen -- Oliver in a rumpled suit and a loosened tie with a rather ridiculous look on his face that Tess couldn’t help but think Lex had picked just because he hated the man. Lex pushed a button on a tiny remote. “Green Arrow.”  
  
Another picture. This one of the vigilante that sometimes showed up in Metropolis, less often than The Blur. He usually seemed to make Star City his home. She shook her head, trying to figure out if Lex was insane. “You seem to be implying Oliver Queen is The Green Arrow.”  
  
“I’m doing more than implying it.”  
  
“Just because of the Star City connection? When would he even have time to…”  
  
“You’re always complaining, Tess, about being forced to do business with his lazy ass, with him showing up late or not at all.”  
  
“Because he’s a barely functional alcoholic. Not because…”  
  
“Let’s not waste time arguing. I’ve run facial recognition software on the lower half and it’s a match.” Lex clicked and another picture slapped itself onto the screen, green dots and lines all over it. “Same jaw, same stupid chin dimple, same body type…”  
  
She could see it, but accepting it was a whole other matter. “Are you sure you aren’t reaching because you hated…”  
  
“Believe me, I’d rather he was a corporate failure and a drunk. All this noble rescuer shit really conflicts with the bully I knew. I still don’t think he’s changed. He killed me, you know.”  
  
Tess shook her head, still trying to wrap it around this. “But you’re not dead.”  
  
“No thanks to him. Believe me. Anyway, he likes to pal around with The Blur, who we know as…”  
  
“Clark Kent,” she breathed as his slide came up. “So Chloe knows about the both of them. Is that how they’re all so connected?”  
  
“There’s more than Chloe wrapped up in all this. But Chloe is definitely a key player.” Her slide came up. “They call her Watchtower. She used to run missions for them, help them pinpoint crime and stop it, hacking into police radios, even satellites sometimes, always dipping into things beyond her reach. But Chloe… she’s out of the hero game right now, from what my sources say. She has bigger things to deal with.”  
  
Tess stared at him, annoyed that the slides had stopped. “Like what, Lex? Is it just this pregnancy? Or is it whatever you’re planning to do about it?”  
  
He shook his head. “That info’s not for quitters, Tess. You want more? You stay.”  
  
She folded her hands carefully in front of her again. “And what if you tell me everything and I still want to leave?”  
  
He rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. I’ve been traveling a lot. I’m just not saying things right. I meant that you  _will_ stay once you know everything. I know you will.”  
  
“You’re so sure?”  
  
“You’re a Luthor.” He gave her a small smile. “You like to know.”  
  
“I didn’t grow up a Luthor.”  
  
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have the key qualities.” He glanced at her almost warmly before striding away to the window. “Tess, if it had been up to me, you would have had what you deserved from the start. I can’t say my childhood was a beautiful, untroubled time, but I know what yours was and you didn’t deserve it. You shouldn’t have had to work your way out of that stinking swamp. But look what you did with yourself.” He turned back to her. “You know, if you’d been kept where you belonged, you might have been the favorite… that is, if you just had the good sense to be born male. Lionel wasn’t known for placing his faith in women. Luckily for you, I’m a bit more equal opportunity.”  
  
“Lucky for me,” she said harshly. “Do you really believe that? This year, I’ve been banged up more than I ever was growing up. And I might have been perfectly happy working for some other company. Hell, I might have been on my way to Nobel prize and…”  
  
“And powerless. You’d never have autonomy. You’d have always been at the mercy of whatever company was funding your research.”  
  
“How was I not at your mercy? You’d been controlling me from the shadows even before you stepped out of them. The implants? The mysterious notes telling me I wasn’t ready and now, even  _now_ …”  
  
“This wasn’t all about some lack of faith in you. You, I believe in,” he ground out. “You weren’t ready and you weren’t in the right position. You are the public face of Luthorcorp. This is about plausible deniability. This is about protecting you. This about letting you keep this position. And I’m risking a damned lot telling you this now.”  
  
“About Clark? I knew that. As for Oliver, I could have eventually…”  
  
“That’s nothing. There are bigger things happening than a bunch of kids playing hero,” he said angrily. “And if I tell you, I run the risk that you can’t believably deny any knowledge should this come to light.”  
  
Her eyes widened. “Then why would you tell me?”  
  
He stared at her for a long time. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said softly. “We’re all we have left.”  
  
She stared from him to the door, but landed on him and stayed. She sat back, sighing. “Finish your damned slides.”  
  
******************  
  
 _She slid through stones, almost skidding right into the train tracks, she stilled and clutched him to her, so tiny and frail. He couldn’t take much more of this. She had to get somewhere soon, somewhere away from…  
  
“Chloe!”  
  
She gasped and took off running again. He was too quick for her to run from. Didn’t he say he’d find her anywhere? She believed it. She could never outrun him, but maybe if she stayed quiet…  
  
There was a tiny wail from the bundle in her arms and she pulled him to her.  
  
“Shhh, shhh, please!”  
  
“Chloe!”  
  
She stilled and moved behind an abandoned car, crouching and hoping he wouldn’t look through.  
  
But Clark was in front of her already. “You can’t run from me,” he said lowly, advancing on her.  
  
She stood, her voice shaky and pleading. “I have to.”  
  
“You don’t want to.” He gripped her arm.  
  
She gripped him right back hard. “Let me go!”  
  
“You let me go! Chloe… Chloe…”_  
  
“Chloe!”  
  
She sat up, looking wildly around the room before landing back on him and the hand still clutching his arm.  
  
“I think you were having a nightmare.”  
  
She snatched her hand away from him. “It’s fine. At least it’s a familiar one,” she said, trying to get her breathing under control as she glanced around. She remembered now. She went for a little nap before dessert. “What time is it?”  
  
“Past eight.”  
  
She groaned and sat up fully, rubbing at her eyes. “I told Bart to wake me before pie.”  
  
“He tried. You refused. But we did save you pie.” Clark shrugged and stood, holding out a hand.   
  
She took it and stood, wobbling a little on her feet.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“I’m fi…”  
  
“Never mind.” Her world tilted a bit as he picked her up.  
  
“You have to stop doing this,” she grumbled, but rested her head on his shoulder, all the same. All the fear in that dream seemed turned on its ear the minute he touched her in the real world. He was so warm and solid and always there. Why would anyone run away from him?  
  
“I bagged your leftovers and your presents,” he said, moving with her down the hall.  
  
“Thanks for the coat,” she sighed.  
  
“I figured it was time you had something with room to grow,” he said on a chuckle as the elevator opened.  
  
“It kind of sucks, though,” she said on a yawn. “It’s really pretty and I won’t even be able to use it in a few months.” Almost everyone had given her something maternity related. Even Victor had made her an app to track vitamin intake. Martha had given her a pair of red pumps, but also a gift card for Babies R Us. Dinah had given her a baby sailor suit. With all the nautically themed gifts, she half wondered what would have happened if Dinah had met AC before Oliver.   
  
“Well, maybe you’ll have a hard time losing the baby weight so you can still wear it,” Clark said when they hit the first floor.  
  
“Put me down this second,” she growled as the doors opened again.  
  
“No,” he said on a laugh. “You wore heels again. I’m not sure if you can handle it. I’ll probably have to rub your feet before patrol.”  
  
“You’re going on patrol? On Christmas? And no one said you had to rub my feet,” she finished, annoyed.  
  
“Yes. We think we should. People get crazy around the holidays. We’re trying Bat out on Watchtower duties so Vic can get out there for a change. And I wouldn’t mind rubbing your feet,” he added softly. “Anyway, quiet. You’ll spook them.”  
  
“Spook who?”  
  
“Shhh!” He nodded to a darkened corner as they moved down the main hallway. She could barely make it out, but it looked like Victor and Sarah. And it sounded like kissing.  
  
She let out a breath of laughter as Clark stepped to the door. “Hold on to me,” he whispered.  
  
She did, keeping a grip around his neck as he opened it. When they stepped into the cold, she nudged at him. “Okay, let me down now.”  
  
“I don’t know if…”  
  
“Oh, put me down, you big goof,” she said on a shiver.  
  
He didn’t. He moved in a rush of speed to her building, then put her down in the lobby, shrugging. “It’s cold out. For you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Do have my keys?”  
  
“I grabbed them.” He handed them to her. “I figured I could get the rest of your things after I took care of you.”  
  
She glanced at him as she moved to her elevator. “Took care of me?”  
  
“Just whatever you need. That’s what I do, according to you.” There was an edge of petulance in his voice and she wasn’t in the mood for it.  
  
“The only thing I need right now,” she said, stabbing the three when it opened, “is to know how that happened.” She nodded vaguely in the direction of Headquarters.   
  
He chuckled and got in. “Victor and Sarah?”  
  
“Yes, Victor and Sarah. I’ve been watching this dance for months! I can’t believe I slept through the big kiss.”  
  
Clark chuckled. “I don’t think any of us saw it. He was just walking her out, last I knew. I guess sometimes it just happens. Doesn’t even take years.”  
  
She stiffened slightly as they passed the second floor. “Is that a crack at me? Because, once upon a time, you were the one…”  
  
“It’s a crack at you now. You seem to think me wanting to sleep with you is some kind of rescue operation, when we know…”  
  
“I’m home now,” she announced loudly as the doors opened, “safe and sound.” She strolled out. “You can go on patrol now.”  
  
He stared at her, then sped away, the stairwell door slamming open in his wake.  
  
She tried to be relieved. In fact, she was. Or maybe not.  
  
He appeared in front of her again before she had time to decide for sure. “Good. You’re back. Like I was saying earlier tonight, or wasn’t saying… When I said what I said, I was saying…”  
  
“I think you’ve said enough,” he said, pulling her keys from her hands and opening her door. “I think we both have.”  
  
“Just listen,” she moved into the darkened apartment. “See, this is my problem and not yours. It’s a hormonal condition and it will go away if we wait it out and…”  
  
“Chloe, this is you and me. This is not a condition.” He moved to her. “This has been coming for years.”  
  
Her back met her couch. “This is hormonal. Maybe I’m giving off pheromones or something?” she tried, almost desperately, sidestepping the couch and backing to kitchen.  
  
“Sure. Maybe that’s it.” He grinned, moving ever closer.  
  
“Stop smiling like that.” She must have missed the doorway as she felt a wall at her back. “What’s gotten into you?”  
  
He smiled. “Mistletoe attack,” he whispered. “You know the rules.”  
  
She glanced above her head, found that damned sprig hanging from his fingers. “Well, that’s not fair. You…”  
  
He suddenly bent to her upturned head and caught her lips firmly, but lightly enough that she knew she could move away at any time and he'd stop.  
  
But, damn it, she didn’t want him to. She threw her arms over his shoulders, wrapped her hand around his neck, and opened her lips under his. 

He pressed her to the wall, then, that sprig dropping to her head and sliding to the floor as his hands ran up her sides, moving between her back and the wall and… just all over as his tongue touched hers and they both groaned aloud.

One of his hands moved to the front, sliding up her waist and very nearly reaching her breast when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “This doesn’t mean… I’m not trying to pressure you into anyth…”  
  
“Damn it, Clark!” Chloe gripped his hand and pulled it her breast.   
  
He stared down, squeezing just a little, letting out a long breath. “I’m just saying… No pressure.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” she gasped as his thumb grazed her nipple, sending tiny shocks right through her even through her clothes. “Got it.” She gripped his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips again before walking them both toward the bedroom…


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely veering toward the NC-17 side of things. It’s also the longest chapter yet. There was just a lot I needed to fit in here and the word count rises and rises and rises. I really wanted this to be novella length, but this was a tough request and it’s taken a lot of words to get here. I’ll just stop apologizing for it now as it is what it is.

_I know the voices dying with a dying fall  
Beneath the music from a farther room.  
So how should I presume?_

  
  
If someone had told her a year ago, that this was in the cards, she’d have laughed in their face. She almost had to take a second to make sure this wasn’t some crazy pregnancy sex dream. Of course, it wasn’t anything like her dreams; hard to control and, on the rare occasion they were sexual, more on the surreal side.  
  
Then again, how was this not surreal? She was making out with Clark Kent. He was making out with her… enthusiastically. Maybe it was more like a daydream. She’d definitely had plenty of those about Clark up until...   
  
“Ow!” She hissed as his hands squeezed her breasts.   
  
He pulled back. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, pulling him down again to meet her lips. It didn’t exactly hurt, but her breasts were extremely sensitive these days. She was glad of that little twinge. It was enough to tell her this was definitely happening.  
  
He tore his lips away. “We should stop.”  
  
She stared at him, almost resigned. Just like her daydreams. Everything always stops before the good parts… except for how his hands were still on her breasts.   
  
“I need to go on patrol,” he breathed, eyes unfocused.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He hadn’t taken his hands away. “You know, people just… they get all crazy around the holidays.”  
  
She sighed and leaned against her bedroom doorway. There were more important things. “Of course. I get it. You need to go.”  
  
“I do,” Clark said, rather miserably. His hands finally fell away, but he didn’t move. “I’m just thinking that dress is probably really…” He grew silent.  
  
“Stupid?” she suggested.  
  
“Uncomfortable. You know, Victor hasn’t called me to check in yet. If you need help…”  
  
“I do,” she cut in brightly, nodding several times. “There’s a zipper and it's in the back and everything.”  
  
“Well, that’s… You know, I’ll just help you out with that and then I go.”  
  
“Exactly. I wouldn’t want you to stay when the… crazy holiday… things…” She pulled him in again, all the way in, right into her room, practically onto her bed when she realized he was trying to turn her around and get to that zipper.  
  
They both fell to a heap on the bed, Chloe trying to get those lips back on hers and Clark trying to work his hands under her.   
  
“Stop. I can’t get the zipper…”  
  
“I don’t care. Rip it off me!”  
  
He huffed. “I’m not gonna…”  
  
“I hate this dress!”  
  
“Okay. I hate it, too,” he growled, reaching for her neckline and giving a yank, then stilling and staring at her.  
  
It was all insanely hot… until the moment she realized she was half naked and  _Clark was staring at her_ and her bra and panties weren’t even _pretty_. They were just practical, serviceable, white…  
  
“God, Chloe,” he breathed. “Why did we wait so long?”  
  
She sat up. She knew the feeling. ”Yeah. Why couldn’t this have happened at some point when I didn’t have a volleyball under my skin?”  
  
“Huh?” He met her eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I just… I wasted a lot of time not looking at your breasts.” His eyes moved down. His hands slid the torn dress further off her shoulders, taking her bra straps with it. “I just want that time back.”  
  
She shivered when the cups were dragged down as well, then let out a slight laugh. “You’re not actually looking at _my_ breasts. They’ve been inflated.”  
  
He grinned. “I’m okay with that.” He dropped his smile and met her eyes again. “I’m also looking forward to the regular version. Don’t get me wrong. But this is nice.” His hands cupped her. “God, you’re beautiful.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and pulled out of the dress and made quick work of the bra. “Okay. There you go. Enough of mine. What about yours?”  
  
“I don’t have awesome breasts.”  
  
“You know what I mean.” She giggled and grabbed at his shirt.   
  
He stilled her hands in his. “Chloe!”  
  
“What? Don't you hate this shirt?”  
  
“My mom gave it to me.”  
  
“Fine.” She laid back and sighed. “But get it off quickly or I can’t make any promises.”  
  
“I have a better idea.” He leaned over her, one hand sliding down her side, one finger hooking into her panties.  
  
“Clark…”  
  
“What?” His lips met her neck.  
  
“I don’t know,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.” As much as she couldn’t help feeling insecure at every stretched-out bit of her he exposed, she wanted his hands on her more than she wanted to hide.  
  
He slid her panties just a little lower, then stopped, head dropping to her chest. “I haven’t done this a lot,” he panted, his breath glancing over her breasts. “Tell me if… I mean, I could never tell if Lana… I mean, I don’t want to talk about Lana, but… I’m just saying that… I don’t know what I’m saying,” he finished on a groan.  
  
She lifted her head slightly. “Clark, if you don’t feel ready…”  
  
He lifted his head as well, his eyes boring into her. “I am extremely ready. I might be too ready by now. I’m just saying I…” He shrugged. “I want to make this good for you.”  
  
She nodded. “Well, the parts with you touching me were all good for me. The parts where you look back on your sexual history with Lana were less good for me, just as a minor critique.” She smiled a little.  
  
He chuckled, then bent to her breasts again, sort of sighing. “They really are…”  
  
“Would you stop talking about them and do something?” she snapped on a laugh.  
  
He didn’t argue, just huffed out a rather pained laugh and brushed his lips over the top of each. He inhaled deeply as he moved down, lips brushing so lightly over her left nipple. She jumped at the contact, light as it was.  
  
“It’s just sensitive,” she said on a whisper.  
  
“Is that a good thing?”  
  
“Kind of feels like it is at the mome…” She trailed off as his lips closed around it, pulling just a little. Her hips bucked up with pretty much no permission from her.  
  
Clark didn’t stop, but one hand slid lower, over her rounded belly, making her frantically pray that baby didn’t pick this moment to kick. She wasn’t sure she could handle anything, even a reminder of all the reasons this was hasty and a little insane, getting between her and Clark right now. But all was still and Clark’s hand moved over her regrettably sensible panties… then inside.  
  
She let out a shaky breath as she felt his fingers sliding through her curls, then below.   
  
He lifted his head. “You feel so wet. Jesus, Chloe.” He shuddered, his fingers making tiny circles over her clit as he dipped his head to her other breast.  
  
"Clark..." She jolted against him.  
  
He lifted his head again. "Is that good?"  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut as his fingers slid over her again. "It's good," she panted. Tiny shocks raced through her body as his fingers kept circling.  
  
She suddenly felt his lips over hers and moaned into his mouth, gripped his arm as he stroked her, a little faster now. She could barely keep her lips on his when he flicked two fingers upward. She threw her head back and gasped.  
  
"Chloe," he whispered. "Is that it? Keep doing that?"  
  
She opened her eyes, though only barely. "Yes... Keep... Clark..."  
  
He did, flicking upwards, again, fingers almost directly touching her clit, but it didn’t hurt, not with how wet she was by now.   
  
"Oh, God!" Her eyes opened wide to find his watching her face.   
  
He flicked again and her body arched under him, he circled again, fingers moving in no sort of pattern or rhythm, but damned if this wasn’t doing it for her.   
  
Her eyes closed again and her hips shot upward.  
  
"Chloe," he breathed, swirling his fingers around her, not stopping.   
  
Her moans turned to staccato gasps as the room around her seemed to shrink. Even her body seemed to disappear, as if there was nothing but the place he touched until… She moaned his name, hit the bed again heavily, panting.  
  
“I did that.”  
  
She grunted and opened her eyes to find him grinning.   
  
“I’m just saying. That wasn’t bad for a guy with limited previous... I mean, not to bring up Lana.” He slid a rather damp hand up her navel, then rested it, rather disconcertingly, on her belly. “But it was only a few times and I never could tell with her, if she was actually having a good time.” He leaned up on one elbow and nodded a little. “I’m just saying it’s nice you don’t have that problem.”  
  
Why was he talking? Didn’t he realize she was half-dead right now?  
  
He rubbed light circles on her belly. “You know, I thought it would be strange, with the… situation. Like I’d feel weird. But I really didn’t. Maybe we should talk to Emil, though, about what’s good for the baby or not before we keep going.” He frowned.   
  
Shouldn’t there be some kind of rule against talking in situations like this? If the tables were turned… Then again, they hadn’t been. In fact, he was still wearing all his clothes. She really wanted to do something about that if she could just move.

“The books say it’s not exactly taboo to keep a regular sex life. Not that either of us had a regular sex life before now. But, you know, if we start...”  
  
“Clark,” she cut in, forcing herself to sit up, “Let’s maybe not go into all that now. I mean, this only just happened.”  
  
“Well, yeah. Obviously. I’m not saying we need to plan out the future. But just planning the planning of it might…”  
  
“This seriously just happened for me,” she said, trying to drive it home. “But not for you. And I think that’s kind of unfair.” And maybe stopping his train of thought would be kind of a bonus. She pushed at his shoulder. When he didn’t budge, she pushed harder and he fell to the bed, looking rather surprised. “I just think we should think about you.” Also about getting his shirt off. It was a damned shame that chests were bare and none of them his. She started on his top button.  
  
He lightly pushed her hands away. “Uh… I really think we should talk to Emil before…”  
  
“I’m not even talking about home runs, here. I think it’s only fair if the both of us get a little third base action.” She grinned and started on his buttons. “I actually haven’t even gotten to second with you.”  
  
He laughed, but pushed her hands away again. “Well, yeah. But no pressure. I mean, we can just leave it for now and…”  
  
She went for his buttons again, but her hand slipped into his pocket and his shirt ripped right down one side. She stilled. “Damn it. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Chloe, it’s fine.”   
  
“This thing must be kind of flimsy, not that your mother doesn’t have good taste…” She sighed and tried to stupidly to hold the scraps back up. “Maybe it ripped clean and it can be fixed somehow.”  
  
“Really. Don’t worry about it. My mom’s always giving me shirts. Besides, I have to change for patrol and…” He started to move away, but she put a hand on his shoulder. He stilled, wincing.  
  
“What’s wrong?” She frowned and pulled at more of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”  
  
“I’m not really…”  
  
She bared his shoulder and arm. “You are hurt.” There were tiny, little half-moon marks on his upper arm. The skin wasn’t broken, but they were there and purple at the edges. It was a shame she was this close to all that bare skin and she couldn’t even enjoy it. “How?”  
  
“It’s nothing. It’ll be gone by morning.”  
  
“Well, when did this happen?” She ran her fingers over the marks, “Were you exposed to green…” She stopped, noticing how her fingers, her nails fit over those marks. She moved away, breathing heavily.  
  
“Chloe, don’t…”  
  
She moved off the bed, backing away. “I did that.”  
  
“I was afraid of this,” he muttered, standing as well.

"Well, so am I!"

"I mean I was afraid you'd react this way. Chloe, this isn’t a big deal.”  
  
“How can you say that? I hurt you!”  
  
“But you didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice almost unnervingly calm. “You were having a nightmare. You were scared. I think this is just something that happens when…”  
  
“Something that happens?” She stared at him in horror. “This happened before?”  
  
“Just once,” he said quickly. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to tell anyone. And it barely even hurt. It was just a little push.”  
  
“The alley,” she gasped, her vision blurring. “You said you backed into the wall, but I… I was the one who…”  
  
“But it wasn’t you. I was just… It was a reflex or…”  
  
“I don’t care what it was! I hurt you!”  
  
“Chloe, calm down. Your eyes..."  
  
She turned her head, caught sight of herself in the mirror. She could barely see her eyes, not with the red swallowing them up. She grappled for the doorknob behind her, shaking. “You need to stay away from me.”  
  
Clark was moving closer. “That's never going to happen.”  
  
“Don’t…”  
  
His arms were around her before she could open the door and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing he’d go away, wishing he’d never let her go, wishing all of this was some nightmare and she’d wake up in her old room, her dad singing horribly on a Sunday morning as he cooked an even worse breakfast. Back then, she couldn’t wait to grow up. She really wished she hadn’t been in such a hurry if this is what it was like – afraid of herself, afraid of the future.   
  
She let out several whimpers as her eyes spilled over.  
  
“You’re okay, Chloe.”  
  
She wasn’t sure she was or if she’d ever be again. Yet she felt calmer now. Somehow, they’d ended up on the bed again, Clark holding her in his lap, stroking her back, whispering into her hair.  
  
“You were just afraid. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It barely even hurt, I swear.”  
  
She wanted to think that. But Clark seemed to make it his personal duty to protect her lately. Maybe that included protecting her from what he really thought. She drew back, wiping her eyes. “How many times, Clark?” she croaked.  
  
He stared at her for a long time before taking a rather long breath. “Just twice. I mean, there have been these moments when you seem a little stronger than usual, but you never hurt me.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Because I had a feeling it only happened when you felt scared, cornered even. I don’t like the idea of upsetting you when…” He trailed off, a hand going to her belly. “I think it’s just the pregnancy affecting you.”  
  
“Well, what does that say about this pregnancy?” she asked, horrified, her eyes filling again.  
  
“That it’s complicated. Think about this…” He lifted one hand to wipe at her eyes. “When you healed me, you were already pregnant.”  
  
“I only healed you because the hormones…”  
  
“Yeah. That’s what Emil thinks. But maybe it’s just that your healing power or you in general are… just stronger than that.” He smiled slightly.  
  
“Or maybe we should just play it safe,” she said dully, moving off his lap. “I think we need some time apart.”  
  
He shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen.”  
  
“Stop saying that. You don’t have a choice in this. I’m telling you this is what I need.”  
  
“No. You’re telling me what you think _I_ need.”  
  
She moved into the living room. “Well, this is my apartment and if I tell you…”  
  
“I’m not afraid of you.”  
  
“That makes one of us.” She pulled open the door.  
  
“And I’m not staying away.” He shut it. “You want to know what actually hurts? You doing this. Over and over, you push me away and I keep taking it because I… Damn it, Chloe, I…”  
  
Her eyes widened. “Don’t!”  
  
“No. I’m going to say it. I… maybe… sort of… possibly… love you,” he finished, breathing heavily.  
  
She stared at him, bewildered. At least he didn’t actually say it. “Well, that was…”  
  
She didn’t get to  _say_  what that was. She still wasn’t  _sure_  what that was.   
  
Clark’s phone picked that moment to beep loudly and shrilly. “It’s Victor,” he sighed, pulling it out of his pocket and pressing a button on the side. “I have to check in.”  
  
“Yes. Fine. Go do that.” She opened the door again.  
  
“That doesn’t mean we’re done talking about this,” he said frowning and stopping as he started through the door. “I’m not staying away, Chloe.”  
  
“Obviously not, if you won’t leave,” she said, staring above his head.  
  
He groaned and pulled her in, meeting her lips, tilting his head and pressing inward until she found herself relaxing against him.   
  
She’d only just opened her mouth when his was gone.   
  
“This isn’t over,” he said before disappearing.  
  
**********************  
  
“…also known as Black Canary.”  
  
“Is this the last one?” Tess groaned. They’d moved from scotch to coffee, ordered in from a bakery, and she was still about to drop off.   
  
“Almost. Besides an affinity for knives, she has meta-human abilities as well, mostly manifesting in a sonic…”  
  
“Oh, my God,” Tess groaned. “Why do I have to know about every tight-wearer that ever traipsed through Metropolis. I don’t even know most of these people.”  
  
Lex clicked off the screen. “Are you seriously complaining about too much information after all your whining?”  
  
She stood and cracked her neck. “Well, what purpose does this serve? Am I supposed to be scandalized about a bunch of hero types chasing down purse snatchers? I'm actually fine with what they do. Are you so petty that you're going to mess with that because you don't personally like them? For crying out...”  
  
“This isn't about that. They can play cops and robbers all they want. But we need to make sure they can't step out of line, playing with things they shouldn't.” He put the remote down. “And I'm not saying another word unless you promise you're with me on this.”  
  
She crossed her arms. “What does this mean? I’m ready?”  
  
Lex shrugged. “I don't know if anyone's ever ready to know what I know.”  
  
Tess rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic and tell me.”  
  
“I've been keeping you ignorant in case things are discovered.”  
  
"So you said. Plausible deniability.”  
  
“Well, it's true. It's more for you than me. If some of my activities were aired publicly, it might reflect badly on the business.” He moved to the sideboard to pour himself more coffee. “Forget ethics. Most of this world is about the bottom line. You are the public face of the business and secret projects are more known for leeching money than generating it. If all this goes south, I'd like to think Luthorcorp could stay out of it. I've been trying to keep things separate except for using some resources. That's for you. All for you.” He downed his coffee almost in a single gulp. “Damn it, Tess. I'm trying to make up for it, make sure you have what you deserve.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m still hearing a lot of dramatics and very little…”  
  
“Then shut up and let me finish. Luthors take care of their own… or they should. It’s not exactly in the family crest, but it should be our focus from now on. We’re all we’ve got.”  
  
She nodded. “Then why are you still holding out?”  
  
“I'm not holding out. I’m trying to tell you. This is all bigger, like I said.”   
  
“I am sufficiently cowed and impressed. Now…”  
  
“I’m working with the government.”  
  
She shut her mouth, then opened it several times. “So is that what this is about. You're the government watchdog over some hero cabal?”  
  
“I keep telling you. This isn't about them. Not exactly.”  
  
“So why were you showing me all this? Does the government know about them?”  
  
“They know _of_ them, but not from us. Queen has managed to fly under the radar even with his limited intelligence.”  
  
“Us?”  
  
“Never mind that,” Lex said quickly. “I'm keeping things separate as much as I can. The point is that this band of idiots shouldn't be left to their own devices.”  
  
“So is that what the press and the studies on meta-humans were all about?”  
  
“You need to instill a little healthy fear,” he said, picking through the tray of danish. “You can't afford to let the public blindly worship this type just because they do some good. I'm attempting to maintain a balance,” he said as he chewed, “sowing just enough doubt so people won’t be upset it they step out of line and have to be put away.”  
  
“If they deal with these mysterious things they shouldn't play with,” Tess said, slowly, wondering if she was finally following this.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“So, if they have some mysterious thing…”  
  
“We put it in the proper hands.”  
  
“Meaning yours?”  
  
Lex shrugged. “I have teams of scientists working for me and high-up alliances, they have supposed good intentions. I think it’s clear who should be in control.” He poured some more coffee. “The plan had been to counteract the hero set with the media, make sure the public stayed suspicious, keep the government on the line so they could step in if need be, but things changed.”  
  
Tess stared closely at him. “I remember. They changed very suddenly when you woke me at the crack of dawn and told me to hire Chloe Sullivan. This is about the baby,” she finished dully.  
  
Lex nodded. “I knew it was there. But I didn’t know for sure until she woke that it’s not, as you put it, the spawn of Henry James Olsen. The plans had changed. Suddenly, a few heroes running around seemed such a petty thing to interfere with.”  
  
“You’re going to take Chloe's baby,” Tess whispered.  
  
“That's just one more thing they're not equipped to deal with. They got lucky with that monster. If it had woke just one more time before they shot it into space…”  
  
“They shot it into space?” God, maybe this was all too much for her. She felt woozy.  
  
“Yes. Queen had contacts in Russia. He used them to bypass using his own government’s space program, something they’re still ticked off about.”

"They know he..." 

"Well, not exactly. They know Green Arrow was involved." Lex chuckled. “They’d have him Queen a cell in five minutes if they knew all I do. Don't think I'm not tempted.”  
  
Tess leaned heavily on the desk. “How exactly do you know all this?”  
  
“Never mind that,” Lex said quickly. “The point is that I’m not letting the government in on everything. I’m working with them on one thing only.”  
  
“Chloe’s baby,” Tess droned.  
  
“I secure it and I get to spearhead all work related to it. The government is only too happy not to foot the bill.” He moved to her. “And Luthorcorp is turning more profit these days. Good job, you.” He lightly chucked her on the chin.  
  
Tess pulled away, sneering. “This is insanity. Why don't you just take Clark if they’re after him?”  
  
He scoffed. “Clark?”

"This kid is only half his. He's the full version. Won’t that be fun for you? You can put him in a kryptonite cage and poke him like a lab rat all you want!”  
  
“Now who’s being dramatic?” He rolled his eyes. “This is not about Clark.”  
  
“But you’re taking his…”  
  
“The baby, if you want to call it that, is not Clark’s”  
  
“Of course it is.” Tess shook her head. “I see them every day and…”  
  
“And I have better information.”  
  
“But there's something between them. The way he acts…”  
  
“Yes,” Lex cut in. “There's always been a little something between them and maybe they're doing something about it now. I could care less. But they weren’t then. Look at the timeline, Tess. When this thing was conceived, Chloe was spending an awful lot of time in motels with Davis Bloome. And this was before he was separated from the beast.”  
  
"Separated?" Tess shook her head, dazed again. “How did that happen?”  
  
“They got hold of another thing they shouldn’t mess with. It’s just as well they sent the beast away. There was no way to subdue it or use it. Davis Bloome is alive and well and that’s all you need to know. His makeup is still unique, but not in any useful way.”  
  
“Useful?”  
  
“I don’t even know for sure if this thing she’s carrying will be useful. But she can't keep it. That's the bottom line. Now, that’s enough for tonight. Get some sleep.”   
  
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” she scoffed miserably.  
  
Lex took a deep breath and moved to her. “Tess, just trust me on this. My project is the only thing standing between that thing and the world. We’ll neutralize it and make use of it. The world will be safer. Chloe will be safer. Even Clark will be safer.”  
  
“How exactly do you intend to make use of it?”  
  
“We’ll see.” He smiled. “Stop looking so horrified. It's barely even human.”  
  
****************************  
  
She could barely sleep. Every time she started, that dream started in on her and she didn't want it, not now that it was becoming clearer. Maybe she wasn’t running from Clark for her own sake, but for his. Maybe, deep in her, she knew she could hurt him, even before now. And, just like in that dream, he wouldn’t let her go.  
  
Hell, she didn’t him to let her go. As crazy as these months had been, there’d also been a certain safety. Between Clark and the gang, she’d felt so protected. But maybe she wasn’t the one who actually needed protection.  
  
She sat up with a grunt. She didn’t have work today, anyway. There was no point tucking herself back in and vainly trying to sleep for just a few more hours.  
  
She moved into the living room and turned on the light. She was just in the middle of making tea when her phone rang. At three am?  
  
“Bart,” she sighed, picking up.   
  
"I saw your light on."  
  
“It's still a little late to call.”  
  
“Or is it early?”  
  
“Fine. Both. What?”  
  
“Moody. Maybe I’m calling about something important.”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
“I dunno,” he grunted. “Nobody’s here and I’m just so boooored.”  
  
“Aren’t you running Watchtower?”  
  
“Try and tell me that’s not boring. Everyone’s just roaming the streets with nothing on the radios. Even when there’s stuff to do, it’s really boring stuff. Can you come over? Look! I’m beckoning you!”  
  
She moved to the window and chuckled at him making exaggerated gestures waving her over. “Sorry. It’s freezing out and I’m not leaving.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I can come over there. Unless…”  
  
“No, you can’t.”  
  
“I’ve got a headset. I bet it would reach. If anyone called in, I could be back at the console in...”  
  
“Bart, tons of people do boring stuff they don’t want to do all day. Deal with it. I’m hanging up.”  
  
“Wait! I’ve been working on my bits. You need to see my escalator!”  
  
Chloe sighed. “Can you do it without shouting in my ear?”  
  
“Just you wait. Pull up a chair.” He hung up.   
  
Chloe dutifully pulled up a chair. It was something to watch, at least. She didn’t have anything more than basic cable and she doubted anything good was on now. Maybe Bart would put her to sleep.  
  
It seemed like a safe bet when he started. These bits were never as funny as people wanted to think, more tedious. Her eyes wandered over Isis’ side, looking at that wall again. The one she’d, apparently, pushed Clark into. It had been repaired by now. She could barely see any difference except in the whiter mortar. Oliver had made a few changes. The roof had a higher wall for one thing. She could only see the side of it as it wrapped around the front, but the windows were now glazed and… lit.   
  
She glanced at Bart again, this time pretending to argue with an unseen person and pulling himself away by the shirt. Hilarious. But Bart was alone there. Maybe someone had just left a light on in… storage.   
  
She tried to keep her attention on Bart. But she could swear -- was almost positive -- she saw a shadow move in front of the light.  
  
Her phone rang and she quickly picked up.  
  
“Did you see? That fight one was new.”  
  
“Yes. It was all very interesting,” she said, glancing at that lit window again.  
  
The next morning, after a bare four hours of sleep, she waited in the control room for Victor.  
  
“You want to pull watchtower duty?” he asked.  
  
“I’ve done it before. I pretty much originated the position.” She shrugged. “Hell, in a way, with the way everyone’s bossing me around these days, I’d kind of like to give some back.”  
  
Victor chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to lie. I liked being out there again.”  
  
She gestured to him. “Exactly. You can get the whole team out and not waste resources with one of you stuck on a computer. Also, I might just have some competence in this area.”  
  
He seemed to consider it, then shook his head. “Chloe, you don’t want this added on. You’ve got work and…” He glanced down significantly.  
  
“Yeah. This is too strenuous. Sitting in front of a computer, eating takeout.” She scoffed. “The biggest danger is carpal tunnel, for crying out loud! Or do you want Bart running things again?”  
  
Victor frowned at the keyboard he was shaking out. “There’s corn chip crumbs everywhere,” he grunted. “Tell you what? I can let you sit in with me tonight. We have a new system and, if this works out, we can try you out in a week.”  
  
She smiled. “You seriously think it’s going to take me that long to get it down?”  
  
He grinned back. “I don’t know. Prove me wrong.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
That was done.  _Now for Emil._  Clark may not have wanted to tell anyone about her little beast-outs, but she was sure as hell going to tell her own doctor if…  
  
“Morning.”  
  
She jumped slightly as the elevator doors opened on Clark. “What are you doing here?”  
  
He suddenly looked very sheepish. “I kind of x-rayed into your place and you weren’t there. Saw you in here.”  
  
“Why are you here so early?”  
  
“I’m always up early. Have to feed the animals. Anyway, come here.” He pulled her off the elevator. “I need to show you something.”  
  
“Can this wait? I asked Emil to meet me here for…”  
  
“I figured you would, which is why you need to see this.” He pulled her to her old room. Despite her personal items being gone, it looked the same. She was about to remark on the hospital bed being moved to the medical bay when Clark started taking off his clothes.  
  
“Clark!”  
  
Maybe just his flannel, then his T-shirt. As much as it would be more maidenly of her to look away, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  
  
“Look.” He turned.   
  
She swallowed hard, staring at his back, all rippling and muscled and just a little tan, which was kind of unfair in winter.  
  
“It’s gone.”  
  
“Huh?” She noticed he was tapping his shoulder.  
  
“Nothing there.” He turned around. “It took all of two minutes of sunlight and it’s like it never happened.”  
  
She tore her eyes away from his chest and met his eyes. “Doesn’t change the fact that it did happen.”  
  
“Chloe, don’t tell Emil.”  
  
“He’s my doctor, Clark. He should know about this.”  
  
Clark moved closer. “This happened between you and me. I don’t think anyone else should know. I don’t want them looking at you like… like…”  
  
“A danger? Because I could be, Clark.”  
  
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “Not you. Never. I told you before. You’re strong enough to control this. And I can help you. Chloe, I’ll be right here with you.”  
  
She glanced away. “Because you maybe, sort of, possibly love me?”  
  
“Well… yeah.”  
  
“Clark, this is about more than you and me. This child is obviously coming with extra complications and, for God’s sake, will you put your shirt back on?”  
  
He picked up his shirt, then stopped, smiling just a little. “Is this distracting you or something?”  
  
She turned away. “Don’t get cute. This is serious.”  
  
“It’s not like I don’t realize how serious this is, Chloe.” She felt him behind her, then a hand on her shoulder. “I have to keep reminding myself what we're dealing with. If I don’t… it's so hard not to touch you.”  
  
"You are touching me,” she said thickly.  
  
"I know. I want to touch you... more," he finished, his voice no more than breath against her neck.  
  
"We're not thinking straight, neither of us. We can't..."  
  
“Don’t you think dealing with complications is easier when you have someone right there with you? Chloe, I’ve spent so many years pushing people away because things were complicated!”  
  
She paced away before turning back to him. “Well, you and Lana are both alive, so maybe we can call that a coping mechanism that works.”  
  
“It doesn’t. It never did.” He jerked his shirt back on quickly. “It just left her confused and me miserable. I’m trying to figure out if it’s some kind of karmic justice that you’re doing the same thing to me,” he finished on a mutter.  
  
“I’m not pushing you away. I’m… I’m taking a reasonable step back. We need a break from whatever this is.”  
  
“I’ll tell you what this isn’t. This isn’t me and Lana,” he went on. “It’s different with you. It always was. We’re not supposed to hide things from each other. If last year taught us anything…”  
  
“So you don’t hide things from me? Like the fact that I hurt you. The way you all carefully doled out what I could and couldn’t know from the moment I woke up. The way you still…” She stopped. She wasn’t ready to talk about the fourth floor. Not yet. Not until she had something concrete.  
  
“Chloe, you woke up from three months in a coma and, right now, you’ve got enough to deal with,” he said evenly. “If there’s anything you actually need to know, trust me, you know it.”  
  
“I can tell you really believe that,” she said softly. “Just like you believe you can handle me, like I believed I could handle Davis, but look what…”  
  
He moved closer. “This isn’t the same thing. This isn’t a part of you. It’s a… reflex. And I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid of anything about you.”  
  
She shook her head and moved to the door. “I need to see Emil.”  
  
“Are you going to tell him?”  
  
“I haven’t decided yet.”  
  
Except she had. She decided she would, then she wouldn’t, then changed her mind back and forth about a dozen times while Emil weighed and measured her like a prized pig.  
  
“Everything seems to be progressing normally,” he droned.   
  
That was part of the problem, how very normal things  _seemed_.  
  
“We’re a little early for the seven-month check-up, but I can warm up the equipment if…”  
  
“No. It’s fine. I don’t know why I called you down here. You’re probably jet-lagged or something. Oliver said you had relatives in…”  
  
“Virginia. It’s not too far.” He gestured to a chair. “Is something worrying you?”  
  
She sat, opened her mouth, then thought better of it. “Maybe I should talk to Sarah about it.”  
  
“Well, you can talk to me if you want.” He smiled and sat down himself. “I did the odd psych course.”  
  
_Well, it’s my bouts of super strength, see. I’m apparently beating up my “maybe, sort of, possibly” boyfriend without meaning to._ Of course, she really couldn't call a few scratches beating up. But the wall...  
  
She shook her head. “I think you take on enough. Oliver told me you volunteer your time. I don’t want to…”  
  
“Why don’t you let me worry about what’s enough?” he prodded gently.  
  
She sighed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand for that pleasant smile of his to turn to fear. Still, she dragged him all the way down here. She had to tell him something. “I was just wondering,” she began rather awkwardly, “about whether… sex is a… safe thing to do, considering where I’m at and… all that.”  
  
“Well…” Emil looked away. “Uh… Yes. Considering your pregnancy is proceeding normally, no bleeding or… You can have sex as often as you like as long as the position involved feels… comfortable to you.”  
  
“I’m not saying it’s even going to happen,” she said quickly. “I mean, I was only curious.” She stood and moved to the table to start gathering the stuff she’d taken out of her pockets before he weighed her.  
  
Emil chuckled. “Well, I can email you some good sites to look over if your curiosity needs more to...”  
  
“No need.” She stuffed in her cell phone and a few receipts and her pen. “I could look them up if… not that I really need to. It… This isn’t mine.” She held the pen out. “Sorry. Tried to steal your lucky pen.”  
  
Emil took it back and quickly put it in his pocket. “Lucky pen?”  
  
Chloe shrugged, glad to talk about something that wasn’t pregnant sex for a moment. She wasn’t sure what color her face was. “You seem to play with it a lot, but you never write with it.”  
  
Emil gave a laugh. “It doesn’t actually write. Just a little something I keep on me.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I used to have a lucky red shirt. Wore it to pieces. Then I almost died in it a bunch of times, so…” She straightened and sighed. “Thanks for coming down.”  
  
“Any time. If you ever have questions or just need to talk, you can call me.” He smiled. “I know Sarah has that that comforting, therapeutic vibe, but…”  
  
“You’re not so bad, yourself,” Chloe sad, patting his shoulder before she moved out.   
  
It was true. She did feel oddly comforted, even if she didn’t talk about the one thing most on her mind. Well, that wasn’t true. She had one more thing very much on her mind. And she’d be re-training for Watchtower this week. Between that and work, she had enough to deal with. She’d try not to think about Clark.  
  
Easier said than done as they still had to work together.  
  
*********************  
  
They were back to work. Tess almost wished they weren’t. As much as Sullivan and Kent had consumed her thoughts, she didn’t want to think about them now. It was better when they were just a thorn in her side. Now they were pawns in some game that she wasn’t even sure she was playing.  
  
Lex told her to just go on as if everything was normal. How could she? Even when Chloe put in her request for maternity leave, Tess could only stare at the form wondering if she would even come back. But Lex kept saying it was just the child – not even the child. It wasn’t a child. She had to keep reminding herself of that.   
  
He said they’d both end up safer. He said not to worry about how. He had it all worked out. All she had to do was act as if nothing had changed.  
  
She stiffened as she noticed Chloe moving toward her office. She found herself adjusting her desk, trying to decide how to sit. Suddenly, everything seemed awkward. Karen waved her in and Tess took several deep breaths. She could do this.  
  
Her door opened and Chloe moved in, looking awfully pregnant these days since she’d stopped with the bulky sweaters and coats. Chloe wasn’t even looking at her, but at some papers in her hand. “I’m looking at the press conference and I think you’re making a mistake sending Lawrence.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He’s coming off The Inquisitor. He’s not ready for City Hall. I guarantee you he’ll ask one pointless question and get himself cut off. Like the last time you sent him out.” She slapped some papers on her desk. “I, on the other hand, will be rushed to the front.” She patted her stomach.  
  
Tess drew back. “Are you suggesting I use your pregnancy for special treatment?”  
  
Chloe shrugged. “It can help. How do you think I got most of the info on you?” She moved just a little closer. “I see you’ve finally taken it in.”  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
“Well, you were gone so long, we started to think you weren’t taking it well. It’s not like it really changes anything. You were doing fine before.”  
  
Tess raised an eyebrow. “Is this a pep talk? From you?”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying you seem to know what you’re doing around here, definitely more than Lex did. Even knowing his reasons for putting you in this position, it doesn’t mean you aren’t… a fit. If you stop monitoring and interfering with us, we can work together well, help each other.”  
  
Tess let out a hoarse laugh. “I feel suddenly moved to sing Kumbaya.”  
  
Chloe sighed. “Fine. Be flippant all you want. But I noticed you stopped with the ‘dangerous metahuman’ dreck. This paper could be great again if you stop with the hidden agendas.”  
  
“Good. You’ve told me.”  
  
“I’m trying to pay you a compliment,” Chloe said evenly. “You don’t make it easy.”  
  
“Or are you buttering me up to get your story?”  
  
Chloe threw up her hands. “Do what you want. Sorry I bothered you.”   
  
Tess frowned at the door after Sullivan shut it. Maybe she _was_ trying to be nice. It wasn’t exactly welcome, especially not now.   
  
*********************  
  
“Could you just stop?” As much as Chloe resolved not to think about Clark and their nebulous status, he was making it annoyingly hard to forget… also to eat.  
  
“I only said you look nice.”  
  
“You said it to my boobs.”  
  
He glanced down again. “And I meant every word.”  
  
“I’m trying to talk about something real here. Tess has been avoiding us.” Which should be fine by Chloe. There were no bugs. Victor even ran a remote scan and there was no spyware. Considering this was exactly what she wanted, she didn’t understand why she felt so ill at ease. “I kept thinking, after I talked to her Monday, things would get better, but it’s like she only talks to us through Karen now.”  
  
“Well, it really hasn’t been that long since we told her about her past.”  
  
“She just seems so weird.” Chloe pushed her soup away. “Maybe we broke her mind.”  
  
“I think Tess is made of stronger stuff than that. Maybe give her more time to get used to the info. At least she’s back at work. And she gave you that press conference.”  
  
“I don’t know. I just feel uneasy. Maybe it’s indigestion.”  
  
“Are you done?” Clark signaled for the check.  
  
“I’m paying.”  
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
“You got it yesterday.”  
  
“And I’m getting it today.”  
  
“This isn’t a date, Clark.”  
  
“So you keep saying.”  
  
“I thought we agreed to step back.”  
  
“No. You said you were stepping back.” He grinned. “Doesn’t mean I am.”  
  
“You know, if we were dating, we’d be going dutch. This isn’t the olden days when the man treated because the woman had no source of income.”  
  
“Well, I’m wooing you, so I have to keep luring you to me with free lunches. We can go dutch when you admit you’re crazy about me.”  
  
“Do you mean I have to say I maybe, sort of, possibly love you? Is that what it takes for us to be on even ground?”  
  
He chuckled and stared at her warmly. “I’d say it outright, but you’re having so much fun tossing that at me.”  
  
She tore her eyes away from his. He’d been flirting obnoxiously all week. She almost missed mopey Clark. At least she knew how to handle him.   
  
Of course, she couldn’t be too annoyed. Tonight, she’d have Watchtower all to herself.   
  
***************  
  
She  _would_  have Watchtower to herself if everyone would just leave. In the past, she’d worked with everyone remotely. But having a headquarters and having so many in town made it extra chaotic – even more so with Victor leaving her to check everyone in on her own.  
  
“I can’t get this headset working,” Bart whined. “I can’t hear anything.”  
  
“That’s because it’s Clark’s,” Chloe said tiredly, pulling it off him. “It’s set low so he doesn’t have us screaming in his ear when he uses his hearing.” She dug through the mess of cords charging the headsets. “This one’s yours.”  
  
“Don’t I get one?” Dinah wanted to know.  
  
She tuned to Dinah. “I thought you had your own.”  
  
“Yeah, but it’s in Star City.”  
  
Chloe turned back to Bart. “Can you just run there and get hers?”  
  
“No, he can’t. It’s in my bedroom,” Dinah hissed.  
  
Bart raised a hand. “I’ll get it right now.”  
  
Oliver flicked him in the head as he moved in. “We’re fine. Victor still has a few from the old set up.”  
  
“That’s on a different frequency,” Chloe groaned.   
  
Victor shooed her out of the way. “Don’t worry. I’ll adjust them before I go.”  
  
She stared at him miserably. “Are you sure you have to go?”  
  
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to go,” he said, pulling out some old headsets from a drawer with scattered cords and two-way radios. “Can’t find my damned keys.”  
  
She took a deep breath, reminding herself why she wanted to be alone. “I don’t think you need them out in Metropolis. You’ll be fine. Are you sure those have a charge?” she said, quickly changing the subject.  
  
“I keep everything in here charged just in case we have system failure and have to go super old-school. You’ll have to be on top of that tonight, too.”  
  
“Don’t even want to look at the electric bill,” Oliver grumbled.  
  
“Probably doesn’t cost as much as your hair gel,” Bart snorted.  
  
“Would everyone gear up and shut up?” Chloe shouted. “It’s like I’m a mom trying to get the damned kids ready for school.”  
  
“Is this one of those hormonal mood swings?” Bart hissed to Oliver.  
  
“Bart, I will send you to the suburbs all night, I swear,” Chloe growled. “Now let me concentrate.” She turned to her screens. “It’s New Year’s Eve and half the nation will be drunk, so I need you all on task. John’s on duty, but he’s there for an assist,” she muttered. And it was a good thing he wasn’t there in person. She was afraid she’d have to start singing “Mary Had A Little Lamb” in her head on top of everything else or he’d know…  
  
“Victor, I’m keeping you local, too, but I want you uptown.” she went on. “There’s been an upswing in car theft.” It was also far enough away that it would take a good long time for him to get back. “Bart’s covering Keystone City and Philadelphia. Dinah, Clark’s dropping you in Florida. Oliver’s taking the jet to Denver. I found a clear place to touch down” Chloe shook her head. “I really wish we could cover more ground. We need more people with speed.”  
  
“Or faster jets,” Oliver added. "One of these days..."  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said calmly. “Clark or Bart can go anywhere if you pick up something farther away, as you’ve seen.”  
  
“Except I’ll get there faster,” Bart put in.  
  
“Well, Clark’s not even here, so…”  
  
“Yes, I am.”  
  
She whirled to find Clark behind her.   
  
“Sorry. Couldn’t find my red jacket.”  
  
“We should be so lucky,” Chloe muttered.  
  
He reached past her to pick up his headset… and lingered.   
  
“Stop it,” she whispered.   
  
“I wasn’t even touching you,” he hissed back.   
  
She ignored him and turned to the others, noting the rather smug look on Dinah’s face. “I want you all at your bases in ten.” She turned to Oliver. “I’ll give you an hour.”  
  
Oliver scoffed. “Try a half,” he said moving out.  
  
“Fine.” She clapped her hands. “Everyone out so I can order some food.”  
  
“You’re getting dim sum, aren’t you?” Bart asked petulantly.  
  
She nodded. “From the good place. And I can’t promise leftovers.”  
  
“You’re a mean mom,” he said before disappearing.  
  
Dinah moved toward her as she adjusted her headset. “We’re talking later.”  
  
“No, we aren’t,” Chloe said disinterestedly.  
  
“Fine. I’ll talk to Clark on the run to Florida.”  
  
“Dinah…”  
  
“Ready, Clark?” Dinah said pointedly as she backed to the door.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Clark tapped his headset and looked to Chloe. “You hear me okay?”  
  
“Like you’re still in the room,” she said with a withering glance, tapping her own. “Tell Dinah nothing,” she whispered into her mouthpiece.   
  
Clark looked confused, but he nodded before moving off behind her.  
  
Victor was still there, frowning and staring around him. “I still can’t find my keys.”  
  
“Do you need them when you’re not here?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then, there you go,” she said, shooing him out. “I’ll let you know if I find them.” She wasn’t sure where she’d “find” them just yet, but somewhere.  
  
She sighed when she finally closed the door, then glanced at her purse. Not yet. There was still work to do. She could wait.  
  
She’d learned a few things this past year. Patience and stealth, to name a few. She was as stealthy with Tess as she should have been with Lex. She felt almost guilty, using stealth with her friends. But, damn them, they were hiding things. Everyone looked at her as if she was going to break into a million pieces, Clark especially, most times. If she wanted to know something, she'd damned well have to find it herself.  
  
By the time things settled down, just after two in the morning as they tended to do, she was ready. She was exhausted, but she was ready.   
  
She supposed the rest of them were more exhausted, after countless purse-snatchings, car-jackings, drunken brawls, and even drunker attempts to drive. She’d told them all to stay at their bases and take a break. She’d like to think she’d earned one, too. She had a small part in all this, after all.  
  
She took a deep breath as she put the feed on loop. If anyone looked it over, it would seem she was typing for the next twenty minutes and the rest of the place would be in the dark. Twenty minutes should be enough.  
  
She checked the monitors and saw herself just typing away as she pulled the keys from deep in her purse and pushed away from the console. She told herself she wasn’t really doing anything wrong as she approached the elevator. If no one would tell her, she had no choice but to snoop. And she’d start with the fourth floor. Still, she felt like Bluebeard’s wife as she turned that key in the elevator’s slot. What horrible thing would she find?   
  
For one awful moment, when the four lit up above the door, she feared she’d find the worst possible thing. What if the beast wasn’t shot into space? What if they found a way to contain it here? What if that door opened and she had to be forced to look into its red eyes?  
  
She nearly pushed the stop when the door opened on a length of glass. It was dark beyond it, but she could see a hinged slot, tiny holes above it, like in a county office. She put a hand out to stop the doors closing and a loud ding cut the silence.   
  
Then there was suddenly light beyond the glass, the figure of a man rubbing his eyes.   
  
She shook her head as she stared at him. “Davis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of you probably knew he was up there. 
> 
> Honestly, I thought of having her find him much earlier in the fic, but then I realized I really wanted certain things to progress without the complication of him before she found him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with events from Abyss directly with mentions of Bride, Identity, Vessel, Zod… a few more. In other words, big old fight coming…

_Do I dare_  
_Disturb the universe?_  
_In a minute there is time_  
_For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse_

 

She shook her head as she stared at him. “Davis?”  
  
“Chloe.” She could hear his voice, louder than hers, as if there was some sort of speaker beyond the glass. And he didn’t sound quite as surprised as she did.  
  
She stepped further into the light. “You knew it was me?”  
  
His eyes widened, glanced down, before meeting hers. “I knew they might want us to talk eventually. I didn’t think it would be this time of night.” His gaze slid to her belly again.  
  
“How did you know I was here?”  
  
“They told me a little. Emil, Sarah, Bart sometimes. Not a lot of uh… info, obviously.” His eyes moved over her stomach. “Just that you were awake, okay, and…” He trailed off as his gaze landed on her stomach again. “I also heard you,” Davis said, shaking his head and gesturing to a door off to the side. It was blocked on his side, but she suspected it led to the stairwell.  
  
“They told me this was storage,” she said, leaning heavily against the wall as the elevator doors closed.   
  
He stepped forward, but stopped at the glass. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Little surprised,” she said, laughing hoarsely. “Little dizzy.”  
  
“There’s a few chairs there,” he said, nodding to the other side of the door. “I’d pull one up for you, but…” He tapped at the glass with a wry look.  
  
“It’s fine. Thank you.” She gathered herself and moved to the chairs pushed against the wall.  
  
“Take the green one. I think it’s more comfortable,” she heard him say. “At least, as far as I know. Sarah always uses that one.”  
  
She sighed and pulled it closer to the glass. “So now I finally know what Sarah does around here.”  
  
“Don’t you see Sarah, too? She said you did.”   
  
Chloe shrugged, then groaned as she sat. “That’s kind of recent. I was stupid enough to think she was the group’s counselor, as if any of them would open up." She felt stupid, so stupid. "They’re pretty secretive with me, after all.”  
  
Davis frowned and pulled up a chair of his own. “They never told you I was here?”   
  
“Not a word. Like I said, I was told this was storage space.”  
  
Davis stared hard at her. “They don’t know you’re up here?”  
  
“I stole Victor’s keys.”  
  
“Victor. I don’t see him a lot. He’s the guy in charge, right?”  
  
“Technically...” Oliver was footing the bills, but Victor did most of the planning and upkeep here. But Davis didn’t need to know the hierarchy. “It’s a round table kind of group.” She stood, not sure how to feel about discussing the gang with him. She looked around instead. “I was right before. This is a nice, little apartment.” Just a small studio, but there was a small bath and kitchenette and she knew there was a roof garden beyond the far door. She wondered if he got time outside.  
  
“It’s not too bad, considering where I could be, considering what I did.”  
  
She sat again, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t get it. Have you been here all this time?”  
  
“I was given a choice. Either they turn me into the authorities or I stay here with extensive therapy and a few accessories and work on rehabilitation.” He glanced down. So did she, dimly seeing something blinking around his ankle.  
  
“Can you go outside with that?”  
  
“Not far. If I’m in the garden, it starts beeping if I get too close to the wall. It was a real bitch in the spring, getting to my tomatoes.”  
  
She let out a surprised laugh. “You’re gardening?”  
  
He shrugged. “Thought I’d learn. Never had a garden, growing up, as I was always in tenements. And I need more to do with my time. Been thinking of learning Mandarin.”  
  
“God!” She shook her head blearily. Why were they talking about gardening? “How did this even happen?”  
  
“They seemed to think there were extenuating circumstances the proper authorities wouldn’t take into account and that I’d learn… better ways to deal with things outside of prison or Belle Reve.” He met her eyes sadly. “The cornfield killer wasn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism. They think I have hope for rehabilitation, but sometimes I don’t know. I don’t know how I’d live out there, knowing what I did.”  
  
She had nothing to say to that.  
  
He sighed. “I guess I understand why they didn’t tell you about me. We’re kind of… damaged parties in all this. And most of the damage was my fault.”  
  
“Davis…”  
  
“It’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked miserably, staring at her stomach again.   
  
She didn’t see any point in denying it, so she said nothing.  
  
“I’m so sorry I did this to you,” he said hoarsely.  
  
“You didn't do this,” she said dully, resting a hand on her stomach. “I had an equal part in the events leading up to this.”  
  
“But I know why now,” he said softly, though she still heard with the amplification. “It was for Clark.”  
  
She couldn't deny it that there'd been attraction between them, but it wasn't something she would have ever acted on, not without the thought of protecting Clark, there no matter how she tried to push all thoughts of him away at the time. “How are they treating you here?” she tried, knowing it was an obvious change of subject, but hoping he’d let her make it.  
  
“I’m fed well. Sometimes Bart cooks things I like. Tells a few jokes.”  
  
“Chef Boyardee?” Chloe smiled just a little.   
  
Davis huffed out a laugh. “Slightly better things than that. But I am stocked on that for when I cook for myself.”  
  
“I still don’t know how you stomach it.”  
  
As if on cue, his eyes drifted to her stomach again. “Chloe, why did you do it? Those nights…”  
  
“I wanted to keep you calm,” she cut in. “It seemed like the only way when all else failed.”  
  
“But you didn’t have to take it that far. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here with…”  
  
“I did what… what I thought you needed.” As much as she tried to understand it, then, she might understand it more now. As much as she tried to explain her power over him as leftovers from Brainiac forging that bond between them, or even some buried healing energy from her meteor power. But it wasn’t any of those things. “You needed to be loved.”  
  
“But you didn’t love me,” he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice.  
  
“You needed to feel loved.” She understood it, after Christmas night, the way Clark calmed her with his touch. Clark was her preferred touch as surely as she was Davis’. “I wanted you to feel loved and safe, from at least one person in your life.”

"Even if you didn't love me?" He seemed determined to hammer that in.

The worst part was that she barely knew what love was, however he or she defined it. Whenever she looked back at her decisions involving it, they seemed so wrong. Marrying Jimmy? Running off with Davis? They both seemed to come form the same desperate place, something in her that was determined to find someone to belong to, someone who wanted her. So what the hell was this madness with Clark now? Another mistake?

"Davis, I'm not going to lie to you." She took a deep breath. "I was attracted to you and I thought, with time... I wanted to make it work. That was all I could think about."  
  
“It wouldn’t have worked, Chloe. Not forever.”  
  
“Still, it was all I could think to do at the…”  
  
_”Watchtower, it’s dead here. Even the criminals are probably tucked in their beds.”_  
  
“Damn it,” she muttered, standing.  
  
Davis stood as well. “What’s wrong?  
  
“Nothing. Hold on.” She paced away, un-muting her headset. “Yeah. Cyborg. Hi.”  
  
_“I’ve been uptown, downtown, all over Suicide Slums. I think the criminals have clocked out for the night. I figure I’ll just come back early, give you an assist.”_  
  
“What? No!” She took a deep breath. “You don’t need to do that. I’m fine,” she said, calming her voice a little. “The others haven’t even called in for anything. Not in,” she checked her watch, “almost twenty minutes.” Damn it, they might all be thinking of heading back. She had to get everything back to normal!  
  
_“Yeah? Then I’m calling it for tonight. Tell the rest of them to come back to headquarters. I’ll be there in five.”_  
  
She stiffened and moved to press the elevator button several times. “Five? Aren’t you uptown?”  
  
_”I just told you. I moved to Suicide Slums. Anyway, It’s just eight blocks or so.”_  
  
“Yeah. Okay. See you soon. I’ll call the others.”  
  
Davis knocked on the glass. “Chloe, what…”  
  
She held a hand up, then muted her mouthpiece. “I’ll be right back,” she hissed as she got in. The elevator doors closed on his confused face. She was a little dazed herself. So much she still needed to know and so little time. Well, there might be a solution… if she just had enough time for it...   
  
She ran off the elevator, or as much as she could in her condition, and rushed to the control room, glad that Victor didn’t have super speed. That drawer was filled with old radios, ones that were barely used and would surely not be missed. She quickly grabbed two, cursing as she untangled the chargers from the mass of cords.  
  
She booked it back to the elevator, breathing heavily. She hadn’t had much exercise in her subterfuge lately. She also hadn’t worked out with Dinah this week, with her in Star City, and she was beginning to wish she’d found the time on her own.  
  
“Here,” she gasped, when the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor.  
  
Davis shook his head. “What…”  
  
“It’s a radio,” she panted, moving to that hinged slot, shoving it through with a charger, “so we can talk.”  
  
“Chloe, that’s not a good idea,” he said, picking it up. “If they don’t want us to talk, then maybe…”  
  
“There’s no time. Just take it! I have to get back down there!”  
  
“But…”  
  
“We’ll talk,” she gasped, getting back on the elevator, trying to calm her breathing. She pulled out the key on three and ran down the hall as she heard the slight beep indicating the front door had been accessed. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She tossed the radio and charger in her purse, then quickly pulled up surveillance and turned it on real time even before she sat.  
  
She heard heavy footsteps down the hall, then noticed the keys still dangling from one finger. She quickly tossed them across the floor, satisfied when they landed under a cabinet. She then picked up her chopsticks and a box.  
  
She turned just as Victor strolled in. “Hey, there. I was just about to call the others in.”  
  
He stopped, staring at her. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“With me? Nothing.”  
  
He frowned. “You’re breathing heavy and your face is all red.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I know. I really need to go to the bathroom.”  
  
“Well, go,” Victor said quickly. “Jesus! It’s not like you’re not allowed a break.”  
  
“I was just going to.”   
  
“I can call the others in. Go on.”  
  
“Thanks.” She stood, grabbing her purse and shutting that drawer with her hip as she passed. “Hey, aren’t those your keys under the cabinet?” she said as she walked out.  
  
She stopped on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall, then wincing as something inside her let loose with several awfully hard kicks. “Sorry about all the aerobics,” she hissed. “It’s over now. Calm down,” she said softly, rubbing back and forth as the movement quieted. “That’s it. Calm down. You’re okay. We’re okay.”  
  
She wasn’t sure she was telling the truth about that. How the hell was she supposed to face any of them now?  
  
**********************  
  
Chloe just sat on her couch, staring at a blank TV, trying to figure out what to do now, if anything. She hadn’t even turned on the radio, just shoved it into her nightstand drawer.   
  
She supposed she should act like nothing had changed. They obviously didn’t want her to know. But she’d felt terribly awkward when Bart came back that she quickly begged off to go home. She didn’t want to even think about how to act with Clark.  
  
They all knew Davis was there. All this time. More than half of a year, he’d been there. Maybe she should confront them, tell them she knew they’d been lying to her. But why were they lying to her? That was the thing that kept stopping her. They were giving her medical care, had been feeding her, providing counseling… All of it was about concern for her. As angry as she felt, she could understand that.  
  
It didn’t stop her being angry, at the moment, and even angrier at a knock on her door. She knew who it had to be.   
  
She opened it only a few inches. “What?”  
  
“Hey, I know it’s late.”  
  
“Yes, it is.”  
  
“I just wanted to check in.” Clark leaned against the door jamb and shrugged. “You did really good tonight, not that I didn’t expect you to. I mean, you did it before. I just…”  
  
“Yeah. Thanks. But it _is_ late, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” She started to close the door.  
  
“Wait…” He stopped it. “Are you mad at me?”  
  
“No,” she lied.   
  
“I know I’ve been kind of pushy with the… us things, but I keep thinking one of us has to be or we'll never…”  
  
“Clark, it’s too late to talk about _this_.”  
  
“Yes, it is.” He sighed. “I’m sorry." He brightened slightly. "Well, you really were on top of things tonight. I just wanted you to know that.” He smiled.  
  
Suddenly, she felt even angrier. She opened the door wider and pulled him in. “Why are you always like this?”  
  
He shook his head and stared at her. “Like what?”  
  
“Why is it always me?” She paced away. “You get to be the steadfast hero while I’m always the angry, unreasonable shrew.”  
  
“So you are angry!”  
  
She didn’t know if she had a right to be, but she was. “Why aren’t you ever angry? Don’t you get mad at me?”  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
She stopped in front of him. “About what?”  
  
“Chloe, it’s late. You just said…”  
  
“That didn’t stop you from coming here,” she prodded. “Didn’t stop you from pushing your way into my space.”  
  
“You pulled me in!”  
  
“Exactly. It’s always me, isn’t it?” She threw up her hands. “I’m always the bad guy.”  
  
He just squinted at her. “I don’t know what you want from me right now.”  
  
“I… I…” She crossed her arms. “I want to fight.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Sarah said we should fight, didn’t she?”  
  
“Sure, but…”  
  
“Hey, this is for my therapeutic benefit.”  
  
“We don’t even have anything to fight about.”  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me all the various things I need?”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you always act like that’s some strike against me?”  
  
“See? There! You found one.” She nodded.   
  
“No, I didn’t.”  
  
“I frustrate you.”  
  
“Chloe, in your condition…”  
  
“Forget my condition!”  
  
“It’s three in the morning. You have neighbors.”  
  
She shut her mouth, staring blankly at him for a moment before she recovered. “Then take me to your house.”  
  
“Chloe…”  
  
“I’m pretty sure we could bring the roof down with no one the wiser out there.” She paced away, picked up her purse and her keys, shoving them in. “We can get all the shit out.” Maybe not the recent shit, but there was plenty more where that came from.  
  
“I think you’re overtired and maybe a little hormonal,” he said gently, moving to her. “So why don’t we just talk about this in the mor…”  
  
She pushed at him, though he barely budged. “Don’t do that. Don’t mansplain my own moods to me.” She pulled at his shirt. “I’ll sleep when I feel like sleeping. Take me to the farm.”  
  
He stared at her, glared a little. Good. She wanted him angry. “Fine,” he ground out, picking her up. She dimly heard her door shut before everything turned to a blur.  
  
***************  
  
He set her down in front of the back door before opening it, flipping on a light. “Sorry about the mess.”  
  
She stepped in and looked around. “It’s fine.” But it _was_ pretty damned messy compared to the last time she’d seen the place.  
  
He gathered several shirts and a pile of socks that it looked like he was attempting to pair off the table. “It’s just… I pretty much come here to sleep and change and take care of the…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed.  
  
“Animals?”  
  
“Sometimes I think about selling them. They barely do anything but eat and sleep here, same as me,” he said as he kept picking up. “I think even the cows are bored of me. I have to ask Ben Hubbard to milk them most of the time. I’m just barely here between work and…”  
  
“Clark, stop. It’s fine. I’m not inspecting the place.” She placed her purse on the counter.  
  
He sighed and moved into the dining room, dropping the clothes before coming back in. “Do you want some tea or something? I don’t have a lot of different kinds. If I knew you were coming…”  
  
“I don’t need any tea,” she cut in, pulling out a chair and dropping herself into it, suddenly feeling tired and just a little less angry. Of course he wasn’t here. He was always hanging around her, bending over backward to make her life easier. Why the hell was she picking this fight? Because the group hadn’t let her in on Davis? What gave her the right to know every decision they ever made? And, honestly, she almost wished she didn’t know. It certainly complicated things and it wasn’t as if she needed any more of that.  
  
Clark took the seat across from her. "How do you want to do this?"  
  
She stared at the table. “I don’t know.” Now that she was here, it felt strange even thinking of fighting with him. This kitchen alone held so many memories of them, making cocoa, studying, stealing Martha’s cookies. And maybe there was some bickering, but almost nothing that happened here had ever resembled an actual fight. She was trying to remember if anything they _ever_ _did_ resembled a real, honest to goodness fight.  
  
Clark sighed across the table “Then I don’t know what you want. I don't know how to fight with you. I feel like, whenever we've gotten mad at each other, we avoid each other.” He shrugged. “Then something horrible happens and then we just... we take care of it and... hug at the end.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean it’s gone,” she said softly. “If we never deal with it...”  
  
“I’m not saying it’s the number one way to do things. It’s just… It’s what we’ve done.” He leaned over the table. “Maybe we’ve disagreed sometimes, but we never…”  
  
“It’s not even that we never fight, it’s that _you_ don’t. I feel like I’m always the one lashing out and getting angry and you… Clark, it’s like I never know what you feel, not the hard stuff. And I know you keep saying you and me are not you and Lana, but this is one place where it’s a mirror image.”  
  
He shook his head. “We deal with hard stuff all the time. There's always a crisis and you and me...”  
  
“Not personal hard stuff. You never get angry at me.”  
  
“Of course I do. I tell you all the time how frustrated--”  
  
“Frustrated isn’t angry.”  
  
“Maybe that’s because I’m _not_ angry at you,” he said tightly. “You've been through a lot and... and I don't think blaming you or anyone is the answer.”  
  
“So you do think there's blame,” she said, latching onto that. They were getting somewhere.  
  
“Chloe, what’s the point of--”  
  
“What if I wasn't sitting here pregnant, Clark? Would you light into me then?”  
  
He stared at her for what seemed like a long time, saying nothing.  
  
“I heard what you said to Dinah,” she prodded, “just before you came to hug me and pretend everything was forgotten.”  
  
“But I wasn't pretending. I told you then, I wanted to try...”  
  
“Yes. And you told me before this came up,” she said, gesturing to her belly, “that we weren’t going to go over the past. That we both did things we regret, but it didn’t matter now. But those things _do_ matter. And if we never face them…”  
  
“Chloe, I don’t want to know,” he cut in, standing up and pacing to the counter. “I don’t… I don’t want you to know mine, either. If you knew--” He stopped.  
  
“If I knew what?”  
  
He didn’t turn. “We can go on without this. Chloe, we can stop this now. How are we supposed to look at each other after tonight if we air all this...”  
  
“Realistically,” she broke in.  
  
“… this stuff that barely even matters?” he finished.  
  
She stared at his back. “Which is it? Is it something that barely matters or something that changes everything?”  
  
“Maybe it’s both.” He turned. “I thought we agreed to start again.”  
  
She stood, taking a deep breath. “We never kept secrets, not for years. I didn't like us when we did. I don’t want to start again if it means we’re hiding things. I want it all on the table tonight. I’ll tell you anything.” God, she didn’t want to. But she would. Sebastian Kane. She could still hear her own voice.  _The human mind is simply a highly sophisticated computer. Download too much information, and it crashes. And all the data's lost…_  
  
“You have to understand. He’d already taken everything away.”  
  
She pulled herself from her own thoughts and back to him. “What?  
  
“I just thought that, if you didn’t have it all back, you’d be safe.” He tore his eyes away from her, stared at the floor. “But it didn’t work.”  
  
“What didn’t work?”  
  
“You weren’t safe,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “The beast still found you and then… then it was as if it never happened. And I thought that was… that was a good thing. Because you told me you didn’t want to forget and I still… I thought it was like a good sign that you didn’t know. That we could just pretend it never happened.”  
  
“Clark, what are you talking about?”  
  
He met her eyes again. “Brainiac had already taken your memories away. And I told Jor-El to put them back, but… Chloe, you have to understand…”  
  
She shook her head. “Understand what? I have almost nothing of that time. Even the wedding was like some surreal dream… or a nightmare,” she finished, vaguely flashing on the beast, leaning over her. “I barely remember it.”  
  
“I know. And I know why.”  
  
She sat again, hard. “Clark, you can’t beat yourself up over failing to keep me safe from Brainiac. He was beyond the both of us. There was nothing we could do.”  
  
“This wasn’t something Brainiac did,” he said softly. “Chloe, just let me say it or I never will.” He moved to the table and took his chair again. “Brainiac was taking your memories, everything but Davis.”  
  
“Yes. I kno… Well, I don’t know. But I know I had some memory issues due to him infecting me, but the Legion put me back together.”  
  
“Yes. The Legion leeched him out of you and, in the end, they undid his work, as if he was never there. But between things… Chloe, I brought you to Jor-El to heal you. To restore your memories.”  
  
She blinked at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that. But thank you for trying.”  
  
“Don’t thank me,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “You wouldn’t remember. You weren’t supposed to.” He opened them again. “For you, all that time between Brainiac erasing your life and taking it over was a blur. For me, it was… It was agony. But I wanted you to be happy.”  
  
She reached across the table and took his hand. “Okay. So it was hard for you. Clark, I wish I could remember or have been there or…”  
  
“No. Let me finish,” he broke in harshly, gripping her hand back. “Chloe, I wanted Jor-El to undo the damage. I wanted him to give you your life back.”  
  
“I know. I guess it didn’t work. You can’t blame yourself for…”  
  
“Without my secret,” he finished, looking down.  
  
“What?” She breathed out a laugh. “But I know everything I ever knew.”  
  
“When the Legion removed Brainiac, they undid his work," he said softly, pausing for a long time. "And mine," he finally added.  
  
She pulled her hand from his. “No. Tell me you didn’t…”  
  
“Your memories were already gone. I just… I thought I was helping you. I thought you’d be happier.”  
  
She stood. “Happier blind? I still struggle with what I do and don't remember in those months and if you, you of all people, had some part in it..."  
  
“I only meant to…”  
  
“You decided what I could and could not have of my own fucking life?" She paced into the dining room.  
  
"And it didn't stick," she heard him say behind her.  
  
"Some of it did, Clark. Some of it stuck.” She whirled on him. “That whole month was nothing but holes and blanks. And I thought it was Brainiac! But it was you!”  
  
“I thought you’d be happier without the burden of…”  
  
“Of your secret? After four years? Do you even know how much of my life was tied up in you and your secret even before I knew? My daily life? But you... You didn't think about that. You just played God and smiled benevolently while you let me walk down the aisle like some clueless baby. Hell, you even marched me down it yourself!"  
  
“I thought you didn’t remember the wedding,” he said dully.  
  
"I don't. I saw the video. That week before was so… I… I thought I was having some kind of PTSD reaction and that was why, but then I'd remember pieces, times when I said things or did things that didn't make any sense." She drew in a harsh breath. "And now I know why. You did that to me.”  
  
"It didn't stick," he said again, staring at the floor. "Brainiac still took you over. It didn't work."  
  
"It sure as hell didn't," she said with a bitter laugh. "In fact, you probably sped things up."  
  
He looked up at that. "How do you figure that?"  
  
"Think about it, Clark. Everything changed because of what you did."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You took my memories and..."  
  
"And you got them back," he broke in, sounding impatient.  
  
"Oh, my God!" She stared hard at him. "You wish I hadn't."  
  
He threw up his hands. "Look what happened to you, Chloe!”  
  
“Let’s leave that out of this. I was…”   
  
“If you didn't know, you could have been happy. You could have just had a normal life!"  
  
"Clark, I was running a foundation for the meteor infected. How the hell do you think that would have gone considering half of my knowledge on that came from you?"  
  
"Well, maybe it wasn't good for that, but you wouldn't have wanted to protect me and..."  
  
"And you'd be dead," she growled.  
  
"Maybe not. If I'd found another way... If I'd just left you out of it..."  
  
"Clark, I would have been in it no matter what. Brainiac made sure Davis felt connected to me and me to him. I could only see it later, but Brainiac took those feelings I had and just switched them over to Davis."  
  
He stared at her. "Feelings for who?"  
  
She suspected he knew who and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. She paced away, not in the mood to make this romantic right now. “Without Brainiac pulling my strings, I might have lost that lovin' feeling, okay? But Davis didn't. Jesus, Clark! He was shifted from foster home to foster home and had no one. Even a hint of... of anything, any kind of feeling from another human being and he was a goner, Brainiac or no. And if I didn't have this history with _you_ and didn't know what he was, I don't know how I would have reacted. Maybe with more fear, maybe I'd have run and maybe I wouldn't have gotten away when the beast took over and maybe he would have killed me in a fit of..."  
  
“Don’t say it.” He shuddered. "The beast wasn't the only monster. It was the man that was the Cornfield Killer!"  
  
"It was the man that lived with that beast. It was the man that was poisoned by it. He wanted to be good." She leaned against the dining room table. "I still believe that. Or maybe I just want to.” No. She did. Even tonight, talking to him, she saw deep regret in Davis’ eyes.   
  
"You were going to marry Jimmy, anyway," Clark said levelly. "That's all that happened that week. I know what I did was wrong, but saying I sped things up is..."  
  
"Oh, I'm right about that," she cut in, moving toward him. "How the hell do you think things would have turned out, Clark, with me being romanced by the man with the double life and none the wiser on how dangerous it was?"  
  
"I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted you to be happy. And nothing changed!"  
  
"Nothing changed because it went the way it went! How the hell do you know what would have happened if I knew who the hell I really was and what was really going on?"  
  
"And what would you have done? Run off with him earlier instead of being taken?"  
  
"Why do you keep making this about Davis? This is about you." She moved closer to him. "If I came back, knowing what Brainiac was doing, I would have been suspicious of Davis and I sure as hell would have postponed that wedding."  
  
"Why? You had that date set for months."  
  
"And do you think it would have mattered, Clark? Would it have meant anything that I had some date marked on a calendar if I had even an inkling that you were in danger? You come first! You always did!" She backed away slightly. “You always do."  
  
He stared at her hard. "You wouldn’t have married Jimmy?”  
  
"I... Jimmy seemed very easy to love." She grew silent, staring at the rug. "Who couldn't love a guy like him? He was sweet and good and normal and... it was like a sin not to love him. I wish I did. I wished it so hard." She leaned against the china cabinet, shaking her head. "His name wasn't even Jimmy. You know that?"  
  
"Well, I know he was going by Henry James Olsen in rehab, but I never knew before that."  
  
"I did. I found out after our engagement party. He told me about his family, about his drunk father, about how he never wanted to be called by his father's name, how he worried about his brother, still stuck with him. He... told me a lot that night. And I remember thinking that he'd been through so much that he never told me and how I'd been through so much I never told him and I thought about coming clean that night. But I didn't."  
  
Clark nodded. "Because it was my secret. It wasn't yours to tell. You can’t blame yourself for that."  
  
"No," she said softly. "Because I was selfish. Because I didn't want to give him all of me. Even though he gave me everything he'd been holding back that night, I couldn't. And I knew why. But I refused to be honest about it, even with myself. And he loved me so much," she said haltingly, "that I thought if I just married him, gave him what I could of me, then it would even out in the end. I could have something normal and... and..."  
  
"Easy," Clark finished, nodding to himself. “I wanted that for you.”  
  
"Easy," she said derisively. "Is that what you think it was?"  
  
"Well, he was out of our circle."  
  
"It wasn't easy with Jimmy, Clark. It was pleasant and normal when I could just push away everything else in my life and maybe that's supposed to mean it's easy, but... that doesn't exactly translate to easy. I had to hide who I am and what I do." She looked at him sharply. "And before you make that all about you. It wasn't. I needed to keep some of myself for... just me." She moved away from the china cabinet and into the living room. "Even though he gave me everything about him. He didn't need to keep things. I did. And I know why now. Even after he knew, that awful night, in that split second when I thought about our life together, I didn't think it would be easy. Because he can be let in, sure. And maybe that would have cured all the mistrust between us, but the bottom line was that he wouldn't come first and I don't think him knowing why would have been a good thing."  
  
"I don’t know. I think Jimmy would have understood if the fate of the world..."  
  
"I'm not talking about the world. I'm talking ab..." She turned away. "Never mind. Just... Easy isn't always a good thing," she said softly. "Easy isn't even easy. Anyway, I... I wouldn't have gone through with it. Not if I knew all the reasons I shouldn't. Not in the end. I never felt what I should, that... connection, that pull, that thing that tells you don't have to hide a thing. It was never right and marrying him only made it more wrong." She speared Clark with her gaze, moving to him. "And after it was done, something kept telling me it was wrong, but I kept trying to make it right, make it fit, and I wouldn't have had to go through it if that wedding hadn't happened. I wouldn't have done it if I just knew why not to. It didn't have to be that way. Do you get that now?"  
  
“I think I do. Chloe, you have to know… I know it was wrong. But if we can get past what I did…” He moved closer, hands slipping to her shoulders.  
  
“Oh, no.” She backed away. “Don’t start that. We’re not ending this with a hug. It’s not that simple. I need to know that you get it, Clark. Because you making decisions like this with some idea of it being for my own good... this isn’t how we work.”   
  
His eyes softened. “So there’s still a ‘we’?”  
  
“Clark…”  
  
He took a deep breath. "You think that, if your memories had been intact, you wouldn't have gone through with marrying Jimmy and everything else would be different, too. Maybe better. And maybe you’re right. But what happened happened. We can’t change it now."  
  
“I’m not saying we can,” she said tiredly. “But if I'd known what was going on… that would have taken priority over a wedding. There were other things – things about Jimmy and I, things that had me second guessing even before then. I pushed them away because I so wanted it to work with Jimmy, but... Well, add in Brainiac and a horned monster and I would have known the timing was off. I..."   
  
“What other things?”  
  
She just stared at him. “It wasn’t completely right with me and Jimmy. And he knew it. Half the stuff I’m saying to you now, he said to me months ago. Granted, he’s had a little more time to think about this with me in a coma. But he was right. If I put it off then…” She closed her eyes and sank to the couch. "I can almost see it, like a slideshow in my head. I tell Jimmy I want to postpone. He asks why, he gets angry, maybe calls it off altogether. I'd be miserable and guilty, but there are more important things to deal with. There always were with Jimmy. We kept hitting that same, damned wall."  
  
"What had you second guessing before I..." He stopped himself.  
  
"Turned my brain into swiss cheese?" she supplied with a glare. She shrugged sadly. "Just... things. Like how easy it was for me to keep Jimmy out of the loop when he almost found out. I just never second guessed it. It was almost like I didn't want him in this, not just for his safety, but because... It wasn't his.” She sat back. “I remember Davis and I were sitting at a sidewalk cafe, back when he just a friendly paramedic to me. I remember telling him that everything with him was so easy, marveling at it, really. I mean, we hardly knew each other then, but there it was. And he asked if I'd ever felt that way with anyone before and I said I had once. He assumed it was Jimmy and... I wanted so bad to answer that it was him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t." Her eyes met Clark’s.   
  
"What was so great about him?" Clark asked through clenched teeth. "I mean, you take the monster out of the equation and I don't get..."  
  
"Davis?"  
  
"Well, you keep going on about this easy, perfect connection with him."  
  
"You mean what I just said once? God, Clark!”  
  
“Still…”  
  
“It was a connection that was formed by Brainiac," she said loudly. "Brainiac took those feelings and just switched them on for Davis."  
  
"Those feelings for who, again?" Clark asked, a little too eagerly.  
  
Her eyes narrowed and she got up from the couch, pacing into the dining room. "Never mind who." She didn’t want this to devolve into some lovefest before she could tell him her crimes.  
  
He followed her. "If it was enough to draw you to Davis, then it must have been pretty intense."  
  
“Clark, let’s get back on topic, here.”  
  
"You already said it wasn't Jimmy. Come on, Chloe. Who else..."  
  
She whirled on him. "It was you, you ass! Happy now?”  
  
He started to smile.   
  
“Don’t,” she warned. She was still angry , but it was tempered with fear. As much as she wanted to wipe Clark's smile away, she didn’t know how he’d look at her when she told him about Sebastian Kane. “We haven’t touched what I did.”  
  
“Chloe, I’m not angry about it,” he cut in.  
  
“You don’t even know…”  
  
“Maybe I was angry at times. Hell, I was pissed. But ever since you healed me, it was like…”  
  
“So I get a free pass? You save people all the time. Does that mean all your bullshit gets to slide?” She shook her head. “No. Let’s go there, Clark.” She moved to the dining room table and took a seat. “Let’s get into what you were so angry about.” It would give her time – time to prepare the words. Because she had to tell him about Sebastian Kane by the end, as much as it would hurt.  
  
“But I’m not angry,” he insisted... again... kind of angrily.  
  
“I heard you and Dinah that day, right before you came down to the kitchen to hug me and pretend none of it ever happened.”  
  
He took a seat across from her. “Listen, you were right about what I did. Maybe I’ll even see how right you are with more time to think about…”  
  
“No. You tell me, Clark. I’m sick of doing all the damned work in this fight,” she said hotly. “Get mad at me, damn it!”  
  
“I don’t have a reason to,” he said tightly.  
  
“Because you maybe possibly love me?”  
  
“If you want to put it that way,” he growled.  
  
“Do you really feel that way or are you just feeling guilty?”  
  
“Wha…”  
  
“Things happen to me. You seem to find a way to make it all your fault. Maybe we’re more like you and Lana than you think. Maybe I’m just another way to assuage this guilt default setting of yours!”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “If you think that, then you don’t know me anymore.”  
  
“What am I supposed to think?” She dug in harder. She was getting to him. “Are you going to put me up on some pedestal like you did her? Pretend I’m perfect, then get all hurt when I prove I'm not? Maybe you don’t know me!”  
  
“What the hell do you want from me, Chloe?” He stood, upending his chair. “Do you want me to say I was fucking angry you left? Because I was. I think I destroyed at least three of Lana’s damned pink file cabinets when you said…” He paced away. “You said you were leaving and it was all for me.”  
  
“Because it was!”  
  
“How was that for me? If you knew me at all, you should have known that was the last thing I wanted! Because look what I did for you! The countless saves, taking your memories of his secret away just to make you happy.” He stopped, holding up a hand as her mouth opened. “Yes, it was fucked up, but I did it and so many damned other things to keep you _in my life_. The idea that you would throw it all away, run off and throw your life away with Davis and tell me it was all for _me_ is…”  
  
“It was!" She stood leaned over the table. "I went with him for you!"  
  
"Did you sleep with him for me?" His voice was bitter.  
  
She sat back down. Now they were getting to it. “I had to keep Davis away from you and from hurting others,” she said softly. “I had to stop him from becoming the monster, stop those black-outs."  
  
“How many times?” she heard him say, almost growl.  
  
She looked up. “Does it matter?”  
  
"I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t all about protecting me. Maybe you had other reasons." He moved closer and leaned over the table. "Emil told me a few things after you left. He told me you were meeting with him just before you left with Davis, trying to find ways to isolate the monster from the man. You wanted to save him."  
  
"So did you. You came up with the black K plan. Does that mean you wanted to fuck him?"  
  
"You can't compare the two," he said hotly. "We weren't drawn to each other like you two."  
  
"That was Brainiac. He drew Davis to me and me to him. Without that, he'd have been nothing but some nice paramedic I saw sometimes. It's not my fault Davis couldn't let go of that manipulation."  
  
"Nice paramedic?" Clark scoffed, moving away.  
  
"I didn't know that the monster had affected the man so much! I never intended it to go there,” she said miserably. “A few naughty dreams don't mean I was going to..."  
  
"Naughty dreams?" His eyes widened as he turned to her.  
  
"God, why did I say that?" She squeezed her eyes shut.   
  
"You were attracted to him!" He paced away. “That’s the worst fucking part, Chloe. Because when Eva Greer… when I found her pretending to be you, I should have known. But I didn’t want to. Isn’t that pathetic? I held her as she shook, I served her tea in front of the fire and wanted her to be you. I thought of all our little chats, our little moments, thinking it didn't mean nothing anymore. You were back. You were safe. She told me…” He stopped, staring at the empty fire place. “I was disgusted when she implied what Davis must have done to shake her up so much in those seedy motels and… Do you want to know the sickest part?”  
  
She didn’t answer.   
  
“I was relieved,” he went on softly. “She said she escaped him and I liked it a damned lot better than the idea of you touching him. It was like I was validated by her obvious fear. If you didn’t want him, you were… God, I don’t know if I even thought it consciously at the time. But it was like you were still mine.” He grew silent for a long time. “But she wasn’t you. She was a stranger working for Tess. And I felt sorry for her death, sorry that I was the last person she saw when she might have liked her family with her, her real friends...” He turned his head to her. “But all that I could think about was you. Still out there, still with Davis. And maybe you were sharing a motel room right at that moment. And maybe you didn't mind at all.”  
  
She couldn’t lie, couldn’t say there wasn’t pleasure in those desperate moments. But he had to know… “I did mind. It wasn’t something I planned on. It was a last resort.”  
  
“You were dreaming about him!”  
  
"I can't control what I dream. And you know how those dreams ended? With you mounted on the wall like a bleeding trophy. Those weren’t dreams. They were nightmares! And they told me to keep him away from you! And I tried! I refused to think of you. But you were always there.”  
  
He turned fully to her, shaking his head. “What?”  
  
“The first time I touched him that way… you were there. Because I had to protect the people around us. Even seedy motels have a few innocent people and I didn’t want them violently gored by the beast. But you… you were the reason I went through with it. It was for you, Clark. Even that was…”  
  
“How can you say that?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “The last thing I wanted was you touching him!”  
  
“I didn’t know that! Jesus, Clark, you were fresh off mourning Lana for the millionth…”  
  
“But you were attracted to him,” Clark insisted again. “You couldn’t have kept it up if you weren't."  
  
"Fine!” She threw her hands up and stood. “He’s an attractive man. It doesn’t mean I would have done anything without the circumstances being what they were!”  
  
“Did you want to get away with him? Deep down? Did you…”  
  
“No! I didn’t want to be away from everything and everyone that I knew for some man I hardly knew! Do you actually need to hear me say that?”  
  
He stared at the floor. “I think I do.”  
  
“Is that what you think?” She moved around the table. “He was hot and interested in me. Is that all it takes, Clark? I just jump at the first guy to show interest in me?”  
  
His eyes met hers, hard now. “Maybe you do. I remember quite a few meteor freaks you barely knew who almost killed you and…”  
  
“Oh, you want to break out the ancient history books tonight?”  
  
“I warned you about them and you still went with them! I can't even count how many!”  
  
“Well, forgive me for thinking you had an ulterior motive at the time. You seemed to show zero interest in me until some other guy looked my way. Then there was suddenly something awful about them!”  
  
“That’s not true! I never said a word about Jimmy when you just threw him in my face!”  
  
“In your face? How do you figure that?”  
  
“You kissed me, Chloe. And I sat trapped in the Phantom Zone with the taste of you still on my lips and thinking… maybe now we might really…”  
  
“Oh, so you thought you’d finally try with me? How giving of you!”  
  
“It wasn’t like that! And it wasn’t like you ever made it easy. Every time it seemed like we might actually try, you backed off damned quick and you know it! Jesus! Any time I tried to tell you I cared, even just in a friendly way, you brushed it off with a stupid joke!”  
  
“Because you… I didn’t want to fool myself that you…”  
  
“And this was the worst one. Because I had to stand there and watch you flirt with some man-boy that you called Jimmy and that called himself James!”  
  
“I thought you liked Jimmy!”  
  
“I did! I could even get it, Chloe, why you wanted someone like him, someone normal. But why… when…” He gripped her arms. “When are you ever mine?” He pulled her in, meeting her lips.  
  
She kissed him back just as hard, gripping his shoulders, his neck, his hair… anything she could touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some of you might recognize bits of dialogue as being from How We Got Here. Honestly, I delved into these issues so thoroughly in that fic, I found myself struggling to find new ways to say it. This is something I come up against in SV fic in general. Almost anything I want to say, I’ve already said, in one fic or another. In other words, sorry to borrow dialogue I’ve already written. I just didn’t want to find new ways to say something I think I said as well as I could in my limited way the first time around.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promised smut and I definitely intend to deliver in a big way. But our duo still has a few things to talk out first. I just want as little as possible unspoken between them before the first time. 
> 
> But the smut shall take up the rest of this chapter and, I hope, make up for making you guys wait this whole fic for it!
> 
> Once again, some of this was done in another fic and is being re-purposed here.

_And should I then presume?  
And how should I begin?_

 

“When are you ever mine?” He pulled her in, meeting her lips.  
  
She kissed him back just as hard, gripping his shoulders, his neck, his hair… anything she could touch. She vaguely thought about stopping this. They weren’t finished, were they? She still hadn’t told him about Sebastian Kane and… She let out a gasp as his lips moved to her neck, selfishly wondering if he didn’t need to know. Maybe they’d said enough tonight. She pulled away and met his eyes, pushed against him.   
  
He moved backward to the couch, falling on it as it protested with a crack, pulling her with him before he suddenly stilled under her. “I… I don’t… I can’t…”  
  
She stopped him with her mouth. She knew what he was going to say and she didn’t want to hear it.   
  
He held her away. “Chloe, we need to st…”  
  
She shook her head hard. “We’re not stopping.”  
  
“Chloe, I don’t know if I can do this,” he breathed, “If I can control…”  
  
“But you can,” she broke in, leaning in, pressing kisses along his jaw. “What about Christmas, Clark? Did you hurt me, then?”  
  
“No,” he groaned, but he still held her away again. “That I can do for you, but you have to stop touching me."  
  
“I don’t want to stop touching you.” She squirmed out of his grasp and leaned over him, pulling at his shirt. “Last time, you didn’t let me…”  
  
“Yeah.” He let out a pained laugh. “There was a reason for that. Chloe…”   
  
“You keep talking about wooing me and dating,” she broke in lightly, sliding her hands under his shirt. “Isn’t this part of it?”  
  
“Yeah. But I’m thinking just the _you_ parts are…” He stopped on a hiss as her hands moved lower, jumping slightly. “Chloe, we can do other stuff. Just not the… end parts… for me…We can't... I don’t know how the ending goes with…”  
  
She gripped him through his jeans. “Don’t you think we should find out?”  
  
“Not if I hurt you." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Chloe, please stop.”  
  
She did, frowning as she moved off him. “You’re serious.” She shook her head, dazed. “Let me get this straight… You keep going on about how we’re dating. Do you seriously think we’re never going to…”  
  
“I’m not saying _never_. I’m just saying…” He sighed and stood, readjusting his shirt. “Chloe, I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“And how do you know you will?”  
  
“I don’t know I won’t.”  
  
“But if we never…” She broke off. “This is crazy. If anyone should be afraid it’s me. I'm the one who’s _actually_ hurt you.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous. You scratched me a little. Besides, we got through the… you parts of things just fine.”  
  
“Then who’s to say the you parts…” She stopped, annoyed at the silliness of not calling things what they were. Maybe Clark was too provincial for it, but she certainly wasn’t. “Clark, I seriously don’t see us going any further if you won’t let me make you come.”  
  
He just stared at her, swallowing hard.   
  
“We can at least try.”  
  
He was still silent.  
  
“What is this really about?” she prodded. “Is this about the pregnancy or Davis or…”  
  
He glanced up. “Of course not,” he said quickly… too quickly.  
  
“Maybe it’s both,” she said, latching on to that, gesturing to her stomach. “It’s obvious the last time I did this was with Davis. If you still resent me for…”  
  
“I don’t resent you. I get it. You had feelings for him then. Maybe even loved him a…”  
  
“Loved him?” she cut in. “When did I ever say…”  
  
“I’m not saying you love him now, but…”  
  
“I didn't love him then!”  
  
“Chloe, come on. You didn’t just go away with him. You stopped me from sending him to the Phantom Zone. You…”   
  
"Do you seriously think that was all about Davis?”  
  
“It had to be, a little bit. I know you said I couldn’t live with myself if I…”   
  
“You wouldn’t have and you know it. The innocent lives...”  
  
“I think I could have managed it, Chloe,” he sneered, eyes narrowed. “By then, Davis was the cornfield killer. He wasn't an innocent…”  
  
"I'm not talking about Davis,” she said wearily. “Didn't you find Kara there? And there was another girl. You told me about her, how she saved you.”  
  
"Raya,” Clark said sadly, dropping back to the couch.   
  
“That place got a lot of traffic and not all of it what's monsters and criminals,” Chloe said, hammering it in. “Do you think they deserved to be stuck in some harsh dimension with a beast that couldn't be killed? It would grind every other life there under its heel. Besides, you said when I woke that you didn’t want to send the Beast to the future and foist this problem off on the Legion. But the Phantom Zone… that would have been worse.” She moved to the table and sat tiredly, this night wearing her down now. “Not only would we have been foisting this problem on another world, but it could have fallen back on us again. We’ve tangled with the Phantom Zone more than once. What if the beast just tore through it, getting stronger and stronger with everything the Zone residents toss at it? We now have an even stronger beast and a Phantom Zone full of dead people! And, if it gets out again, a doomed planet with nothing we can do to stop…”  
  
“Why didn't you say this then?” he burst out. He moved to take the seat across from her. “Chloe, if you’d said this then, I might have understood.”  
  
“But would you have let me go?”  
  
He stared at the table. “No.”  
  
“Well, there you go.” She took a deep breath. “Davis was right there. I couldn't say this in front of him. Leaving with him, convincing him I could love him was the only thing I knew to do. It's not black and white, Clark. There was no perfect solution. Not even now, with that beast shot into space. It's not a perfect solution. I think we're always going to be wondering if the Beast drops back down, stronger than ever. But then… All I knew was that I could calm it and..."  
  
"But not forever."  
  
"No. But as long as I possibly could,” she said softly. "It was the path that contained the least... death. If I stop him from changing, stop him from getting hurt and getting stronger, then... It was stupid, Clark, and it was wrong, but it was all I knew to do at the time. I was scrambling for a solution and the closest I could come was that... he loved me. Or he thought he did." She wondered if he still thought he did. He might know she didn't now, though she still cared, but she hated the idea of Davis, locked away and pining for her. She pushed the thought away, saying softly, sadly, "I don't know. Davis had never been loved. I’m not sure he really knew what love was.”   
  
"And what about you?" Clark met her eyes.  
  
“I cared about him.” She held his stare. “But I wasn't in love with him, not for a second, because I could never... I could never get over you. I meant it when I said it was all for you. All that year, every stupid thing, every terrible…” Her voice broke as her eyes filled suddenly. She had to tell him now or she never would.   
  
He stood and came around the table. “Chloe…”  
  
“No, Clark. Let me finish. Don’t start…”  
  
He pulled her up, anyway, folding his arms around her. “It’s okay. I hated that year, too. But it’s over. We can get past it. We can get past anything.”  
  
“No, Clark. Not anything.” She leaned into him despite herself, her eyes spilling over, suddenly wondering if she’d found something to break them, if this was the last time he’d ever hold her like this, make her feel so safe. “What if I told you I did something so horrible that it made me wonder if I was even a good person?” she said into his shirt.  
  
“That’s crazy talk,” he said into her hair. "You were always the best person I knew. I told you that once."  
  
"That was before," she sobbed.  
  
"Before what?"  
  
"I have secrets, too, Clark. Ones you don't even know and..." She broke off, shaking her head against his chest.  
  
"Then tell me them. We don't have any lies tonight."  
  
"I can't," she breathed, pulling away, sniffling.  
  
He didn't let her. He kept one arm at her back and tipped her chin up. "Chloe, you can tell me anything.”  
  
She looked everywhere but at him. "Even if this changes how you see me? Forever?"   
  
He huffed out a laugh. "It can’t be that bad. It's not like you killed someone."  
  
She met his eyes, taking a deep breath.  _Now or never._ "Yes, it is. It's exactly like that.”  
  
He stared at her silently for a long time.   
  
It was just as well. She couldn’t think of any way to go on.  
  
"You know, things have happened in your life," he said carefully. "You've had to defend yourself against a lot of..."  
  
"This wasn't self-defense.” She pushed away from him, paced away. “This wasn’t some thug coming at me with murder in his eyes. It wasn't someone bent on killing me or anyone else." She stopped and turned back to him, hugging her arms. "He was in a hospital bed, for crying out loud. It wasn't even _remotely_ self-defense. His name was Sebastian Kane... or Wilson Turner, really. You'd think I could get it straight, considering I ended his existence."  
  
"Sebastian Kane. I remember him." Clark shook his head. "He attacked Lois and... I stopped him. But I hardly met him. I didn't even think about him later. I didn't even know he died."  
  
"Guess he had to," she said, her voice trembling. "He was a memory thief, Clark. He was in Black Creek the same time I was, apparently. He could read people with nothing more than a touch. He said something about what he saw when he touched you, and I... touched him right back. I killed him."  
  
Clark sank to the couch. "I can’t imagine you… How could you have killed him?" he said, almost to himself. "You'd never..."  
  
"I killed him with a touch," she clarified miserably.  
  
He shook his head. "That makes no sense. Maybe you only think you're responsible or..."  
  
"He was a memory thief and I was infected with enough data to overload him, Clark.  _And the human mind is simply a highly sophisticated computer_ ," she said, her voice suddenly a low drone. " _Download too much information, and it crashes. And all the data's lost._ " She shuddered. "I said that. It's still stuck in there, so clear now, replaying in my head. At the time, it was all so hazy, as if it wasn't even happening, but it was. I could hear my voice, but with no... emotion. Later on, as I walked away from that room, realizing what just happened, I thought... I mean, how could I be so cold? He was human, wasn't he? He was just a confused metahuman who'd been tortured at Black Creek like so many others. And hadn't I been helping people like him for months? Why would I kill the very kind of person I was trying to save? So I locked it away. I buried it. It wasn't hard to do, my mind was bursting as it was, with Brainiac, with more than I could handle even without..."  
  
"It was Brainiac," Clark cut in sharply. "It had to be."  
  
"No," she said brokenly. "See, I've been over this. Brainiac was just the weapon. It had to be me. Ollie said it best. Protecting you is my natural instinct. Not Brainiac's."  
  
"Oliver knew about this?"  
  
"He saw the footage of me walking away as he died," Chloe said on a whisper. "He wanted to be sure I kept quiet about him and Lex, so he said, if I told, he'd tell you what I..."  
  
"What?" Clark stood abruptly. "He blackmailed you? That son of a..."  
  
"Jesus, why did I say that?" She moved to Clark. "Clark, let it go. He was in a dark place."  
  
"And that means he can blackmail you and get away with it?" He clenched his fists.   
  
"Things are different now. It doesn't even matter now if it was blackmail or…"  
  
"It's blackmail,” Clark broke in harshly. “It mattered then and it matters now. Because you let him. You could have told me yourself."  
  
"And have you hate me?”  
  
“I wouldn't have hated you. I would have helped you. Because I would have known that you running around killing people is not you at all!"  
  
"Maybe it is when it comes to you!" she yelled, then quieted. "Or it was then. Jesus! Maybe you were right to try to take my memories if I was such a dangerous..."  
  
"Don't say that. You aren't dangerous. You were possessed,” he said softly, moving to her.   
  
She shook her head and backed away. "It had to be me. Why would Brainiac want to protect your secret?"  
  
"Why would he want to do half the things he did? He wanted Davis to fall in love with you. But why would he want that when whatever feelings he had for you calmed him? Why would he take your memories? Why would he want to inhabit you when he could have taken someone more powerful?" He pinned her with his gaze. "You're not the only one who's thought these things over. Can't you at least admit it's possible that airing my secret to the general public was something Brainiac didn't want? Because I don't think he'd want people too aware what was going on under their noses. And you know what, Chloe? We'll never know what he wanted to do because, in the end, he didn't win." He moved closer.  
  
"Don't," she said brokenly, backing away until she felt the dining table behind her. "Don't make it about Brainiac. I…”  
  
“But it was. You have nothing to be sorry for," he breathed, taking her shoulders in his hands, pulling her in.  
  
"No. I do." She stiffened, but fell against him. "I did terrible things for you."  
  
"So did I," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.  
  
"It was all for you," she breathed against his neck, something in her shifting at the relief of it all. He knew and he didn’t think any less of her. He didn’t even think it  _was_  her. Maybe if he believed it, she could. Regardless, she could feel that shift in him as well. What first felt like comfort was now something altogether different.  
  
"You needed me," he whispered, letting those lips move to her temple, down her cheek. "I needed you. Need you now."  
  
"Always need you." Her head moved under his, her lips brushed his. "Even when I knew it was wrong. Why couldn't I stop?"  
  
"It's not wrong," he whispered. "Just when we're apart... everything's wrong. Can’t do that anymore," he finished, muffled against her lips. He cradled the back of her head, pulling her up against him. Her mouth opened under his and he moved them backwards.  
  
They missed the couch, moving clumsily through the living room, unwilling to part their lips even as they stumbled into the front hall. About the time she tripped against the bottom step, Clark tore his lips away, catching her and lifting her up.  
  
They just stared at each other, there at the base of the steps. There was a question there  _(Should they? Was it safe? What if…)_ , but she was sure neither wanted to say it out loud and break this moment. They’d talked enough tonight. This was happening.  
  
He started up the stairs, still holding her body and her gaze, until she leaned against his neck, pressing light kisses there. He sped up suddenly and she found them in his room. He let her slide down his body as she pressed one long, open-mouthed kiss where his neck and shoulder met.   
  
He groaned and pulled away, working at her top, but she stilled his hands, moving her own under his T-shirt, determined. There was no way she was letting Clark get her shirt off before she got to run her hands all over his chest. By the time she slid that damned blue T-shirt upwards, she knew hands wouldn’t be enough. She leaned in, sliding her lips lightly over one nipple, then pushing the shirt higher, pressing soft kisses over his collarbone until he stepped backward, making quick work of the shirt and tossing it away before he bore down on her.  
  
She let him this time, not caring even a little when he ripped her neckline and even broke one of her bra straps. As long as she could just run her hands over his back, his bare shoulders, his arms, muscles working underneath the skin…   
  
“Chloe?”  
  
“Just rip it off,” she whispered, not wanting to give up the feel of him under her fingers long enough to take it off. Besides, she’d ruined one of his. It was only fair.   
  
His eyes met hers, almost orange before he closed them tight and ripped. Her top and bra fell away and she didn’t have the energy to self-deprecate as she was bared to him, still so enthralled with all that bare skin of his.  
  
Their hands dueled just a little on the way down, grappling with each other’s waistbands. His won, of course, as hers were always elastic these days and he toppled her gently to the bed, peeling down her pants, panties with them, her shoes dropping to the floor in the tangle. There was no sound but their breaths as he leaned over her, running a hand over her belly, almost as if checking in, before sliding that hand downward.   
  
She closed her eyes, willing to wait to touch more of him if there was a repeat of what happened last time. She selfishly opened her legs wider, waiting for the motion of his fingers. She gasped, her head lifting and her eyes snapping open as she felt something a whole lot wetter. She could only see the top of his head past that damned belly and she barely wanted to see. This wasn’t something Jimmy had done. This wasn’t something she’d thought Clark would… just do. She didn’t always have time to be embarrassed before her insides were clenching and her hips were writhing beneath him as his tongue moved in tight circles.   
  
She choked out his name and one of his hands slid up her side, groping rather blindly for her breast. She breathed out a laugh when he gripped it, then stopped that immediately when his tongue sped up, groaning his name as her head fell back to the bed and her hands, restlessly gripping and flailing about her, shoved the pillows to the floor.  
  
She wasn’t sure what made this different from their fumblings on Christmas night or the countless times she’d touched herself over the years, but the climb upward was somehow more intense, more focused as she could barely register any part of her body that wasn’t under Clark’s hands or mouth, could hardly hear another sound but her own ragged breath and Clark breathing hard through his nose.   
  
Then it was a bit like a roller coaster, her being driven upwards with no control, losing all sense of gravity as she was carried over the top, then sort of plunged into sensation she could feel the energy bursting from the tips of her toes and fingers before radiating inward, settling where Clark was still working at her.  
  
She squirmed away from his touch as the feeling returned to the rest of her body, the stimulation almost too much by now. This being only one of very few orgasms provided by another person, she felt almost uncomfortable telling him what to do, but she croaked his name a few times and he seemed to realize she needed him to stop.  
  
She opened her eyes to find him hovering over her and let out a slight laugh at the worried look on his face.   
  
“You okay? I’m sorry if I…”  
  
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I just… I’m a little too sensitive right now, you know?”  
  
He frowned, settling at her side. “No. I didn’t. I guess I never looked up that part.”  
  
She rose up on her elbows. “Looked up?”  
  
He looked away slightly. “I kind of did some research this week. Just some… some things to do that weren’t… well, the whole… thing.”  
  
She laughed again. Considering what he’d just done to her, the fact that he still couldn’t do anything but _allude_ to sex was kind of adorable.   
  
“What?”  
  
She choked out another laugh at his confused face, then just plain choked.   
  
Clark hovered over her again. “What? What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” she croaked, “just a little dry.” She’d avoided tea or even water these last few hours as she didn’t want their fight interrupted by her constant trips to the bathroom.  
  
Clark disappeared immediately, of course, and was back in seconds with a glass of water, some of it sloshing on the bed as he sped to a stop in front of her. He held it out.  
  
She sat up and took it wordlessly, gulping down half before setting it on the nightstand and sitting back against the headboard. "So how about..."   
  
“Where are all the… Hold on.” Clark sped around the room before appearing over her, dropping an armful of pillows on the bed before pulling her forward. “That can’t be comfortable. Let me…”  
  
“Clark, I’m fine. Stop fussing.” But she did lean back against the pillows before sliding a hand around his neck, pulling him to her for a rather lazy kiss, still so bonelessly relaxed from her orgasm. She could taste herself on his lips, which was strange, but not enough to make her stop kissing him.  
  
But Clark seemed to want to stop, trying to talk even as he kissed her back. “You know… we should… probably… get some… sleep… The sun’s…”  
  
“Oh, no.” She looped her other arm around his neck, holding him to her. “You’re not getting away this time.”  
  
“Chloe…”  
  
“Besides, this is your house. So you have nowhere to go.” She leaned up, sliding her lips over his earlobe before taking it between her teeth. “I asked about this, you know. We can do this.”  
  
He sucked in a breath before trying to talk again… the idiot. “I still don’t think…”  
  
“Good. Stop thinking,” she whispered, leaving his ear for his neck as that seemed to shut him up before. It worked again.  
  
He fell over her, lips at her neck, her jaw, her mouth as he gripped her hips, unconsciously pressing into her. She could feel him, hard beneath those damned jeans he was still wearing. It was really unfair, too. She moaned as his lips pulled at her breast, trying to focus enough to finally get him out of those damned pants!  
  
He pulled away then, but before she could protest, the pants were gone and he was hovering over her, his eyes so unsure.   
  
She lifted a hand to his face. “You said you weren’t afraid of me. Well… likewise.”  
  
He let out a shaky breath and settled between her legs, his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
She reached down between them, taking him in hand and making a mental note to take a damned good look in the morning, but not now. It was about him, right now. He was still afraid. She had to prove to him that she wasn’t. They'd fought through everything tonight and here they were. Why stop for something as silly as fear?   
  
Of course, on that first push inward, she wondered if she should be afraid. She was still slick from before and he slid in with very little resistance, but it still felt like he was stretching her to the limit. She bit her lip, holding in a pained hiss at his first, almost involuntary push.  
  
He caught it, of course, his eyes opening. “Chloe?”  
  
“It doesn’t exactly hurt,” she said quickly. “It’s just… a lot.” She pushed her hips upward. “Move, Clark.”  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut again and stayed still, arms straight on either side of her. “Not if you…”  
  
“I want you to move,” she whispered, sliding a hand down his back, then lower, making another mental note to take a long look at that ass. She squeezed, feeling his muscles tense as he jerked inside her. She felt an answering jolt at that and squeezed harder.  
  
He started to move then, slowly, his eyes still tightly shut, his arms still tense and straight on either side of her, keeping the weight of him off her stomach. She was glad of that as she felt movement inside, as if someone was very annoyed at all the activity tonight, and she didn’t want Clark distracted by that. She ignored it studiously, herself, and tried to concentrate on the feel of him. With his arms still ramrod straight on either side of her, the low angle had him sliding against something inside her that was a damned good distraction from the mild burn of what was still a pretty tight fit.  
  
She vaguely wondered if he was near that fabled G-spot, which she had been convinced she didn’t have up till now, when a rather rough thrust had her letting out an involuntary moan.  
  
His eyes opened at that, flashing orange before closing again quickly. “Chloe…”  
  
“It’s good,” she said, answering the question he was struggling to get out. “Keep… Unh!” She wasn’t much for talking, either, so she stopped trying. Though she did let any and all other noises out freely. Every time she moaned, he moved faster, letting out low groans of his own.  
  
It was all so mind-numbingly, surprisingly good. She’d never come this way and she still wasn’t sure she had it in her to come again, but damned if she wasn’t close. She pushed her hips rather weakly up from under him, unable to move much with the weight of her stomach, but she was close. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was with Clark – finally, Clark – or if the pregnancy hormones were helping it along. She’d looked up a few things, too, after all. Her eyes shot open as she glanced at his tense arms, then stilled, pushing at them.  
  
“Clark, the baby…”  
  
He pulled out rather suddenly, his eyes still shut tight. “I’m sorry. We can stop,” he panted. “Give me a minute and I’ll be…”  
  
“No, don’t stop. Just let me…” She let out a rather annoyed huff and sat up, trying to remember any of the damned positions from any of those pregnant sex articles. She lit on one, then stared at him, breathing hard with his eyes still shut. “Are you gonna keep your eyes closed this whole time?”  
  
“Maybe,” he grunted, sitting back on his heels. “Gimme a second.” He took two deep breaths, then hesitantly opened one eye before the other. “Listen, I’m fine. We don’t have to finish this if…”  
  
“Don’t you dare, Clark Kent,” she cut in. “I was just thinking a different position might…” She trailed off, finally looking down as the cool winter sun started to light up the room. She held in a nervous giggle. No wonder it hurt a little. She was surprised it didn’t hurt more. Of course, it wasn’t hurting a minute ago, which reminded her… “I want you to take me from behind,” she said in a rush.  
  
Clark’s eyes widened. “Uh… Are you sure that’s...”  
  
She rolled her eyes and pushed at him, then turned over, rising up on her hands and knees before glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Like this. They say it's better.”  
  
Clark just stared at her, still wide-eyed. She started to wonder if this position made her look like the cow she felt herself to be when his eyes flashed again before shutting tight. It was gratifying, knowing she could have that effect on him, yet just a little annoying. Would she ever be able to see his eyes as he moved inside her?  
  
That didn’t matter now as she wouldn’t be able to see him at all in this position unless she wanted to keep her neck wrenched to the side. She faced the headboard, waiting, then wondered if he was going to back off when he gripped her hips.  
  
“Yes,” she gasped as she felt him at her entrance, sliding in a little more easily now. “Like this. Clark, mo…” Her words cut off as he started moving, hands tensing and releasing on her hips as his own moved slowly.   
  
She could move a little easier this way and she used that freedom, pushing back against him, wordlessly urging him to move faster.  
  
He took the hint, shoving in just a little before he sped up, hands now moving up her back, then under her, gripping her breasts as she felt his breath stirring her hair. She knew he must be bent over her by now and wished she could meet his lips, see his face, but she didn’t care as much when one of his hands slid down, working at her clit in light circles.  
  
That second orgasm went from possible to inevitable as his hips and hands moved together to drive her to insensibility. A hoarse moan tore from her and he sped up, breathing her name into her neck as her moan broke into a gasp of his name.   
  
Her arms gave in and he followed her down, still rubbing at her clit, though with less room now, moving even faster inside her now. She sobbed into her arms as her orgasm hit her in a rush, not sure why she was crying. It was all just too much!  
  
She felt warmth inside her, then heard him groan her name before collapsing over her. She sniffled a little, just laying beneath him.  
  
He moved off quickly, pulling at her shoulders. “Chloe…”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said in a rush, turning over and falling back into the pillows. “I swear. I cry over everything these days.” She gave him a watery smile. “That was…” She tried to think of a word.  
  
“It really was…” He couldn’t seem to find one either.  
  
They both laughed, falling against each other, feeling like a couple of awkward teens – at least that’s how _she_ felt. It seemed to bring her back to the first orgasm she’d ever had, almost accidentally, in the shower one night. She’d just been rinsing with the shower-head, thinking of Clark almost innocently, when she hit the right spot. After that, her thoughts were much less innocent and she’d kept them up and the stream against her until the water ran cold and she felt tingly, also guilty, all over. She hadn’t looked at Clark for a week after.  
  
She glanced at him in the brightening room as he sat up, pulling the covers over them, unable to stop herself. “Did you ever think of me like this when you… self-serviced?” she finished, laughing a little.  
  
He chuckled, settling in beside her. “I tried not to. I mean, I saw you every day, but it got harder and harder, especially after senior year when we spent even more time… I really tried not to.”  
  
“That’s kind of a relief.” She smiled a little, turning to him. “I didn’t want to be the only one.”  
  
He swallowed hard, eyes moving over her. “You thought of me?”  
  
“Almost exclusively,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up and kind of wishing she hadn’t said it. Then he pulled her in, lips moving against hers, hands sliding all over, and she was glad she had.   
  
He stopped with a slight growl, collapsing beside her and staring at the ceiling. “We’re gonna have to sleep. I don’t even want to know what time it is.”  
  
She glanced at the window. “With the sun up in winter, it has to be past seven.”  
  
“Damn it!” He tossed the covers off and sat up.   
  
She snatched at them, shivering, the sweat on her skin now cooling. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“Two hours late feeding the animals,” he grunted, bending over and looking for his clothes.  
  
She sighed and leaned back, fine with the view… until her eyes zeroed in. She could see it, faint half-moon marks on either cheek. She sat up quickly. “I hurt you.”  
  
“What?” he said absently, shaking out his jeans.   
  
“I scratched you again,” she said miserably.   
  
“Yeah?” He stilled. “I didn’t feel anything.” He shrugged, then stepped into his jeans.  
  
She shook her head and pulled the quilt tighter around her. “Clark, this is…”  
  
“No, it’s not,” he broke in. “Whatever you were going to say, it’s not.” He zipped up and moved to her. “Chloe, we got through this.” He crouched down, a hand toying with the bit of quilt over her knee. “I’ve spent so many years afraid of this and now, with you…” He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know. Everything felt right and I’m not going to regret it because of a couple of scratches that didn’t even hurt. And you know what?” He leaned in and met her lips quickly before straightening with a grin. “I think it’s only going to get better. Now, I’ll be right back, so don’t move,” he said before disappearing in a rush of air that blew the quilt off her legs.  
  
She did move, tossing off the quilt with a shiver, then looking around for her top before she remembered it was in pieces. She saw half of it under the tangle that was her pants, panties, and shoes. She had to get out of here and think about this. It should be great that Clark wasn’t afraid anymore, but she couldn’t say the same for herself. They were tiny scratches, but the fact that they existed seemed huge. She tried to untangle her shoes from the mess and managed to get one, except for how it shot out of her shaking hands and went under the bed.  
  
She got on the floor with a grunt, trying to bend enough with her damned belly in the way to grope for it. She felt something, a bag, and pulled it out of the way still trying to feel for her shoe when she stopped at a rattling noise from the bag. She sat up, seeing the rather obvious cause of it at the mouth of the bag: a little blue rattle.   
  
She stared at the bag itself, white with blue dots and blue and white paper inside. She picked up the rattle, a silver shark on one side, then turned it over in her still-shaky hand to see “Go Sharks!” on the other side. She let out a whimper, then found herself digging past the paper, pulling out a little blue and silver jersey, then a blue and white onesie that looked like a baseball uniform, a tiny hat pinned to the front, then a plush ball and bat and tiny football rolling around the bottom. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she let them fall back in, wondering when he bought these. Was it after that day, on the way to St. Louise’s, when they found themselves arguing about whether this kid would be an athlete or a bookworm? More than that, what did this mean?   
  
Did he see himself playing with these toys? Playing daddy? She let out a smile through her tears at the visual, Clark trying to put that little bat in the hand of an infant, tossing a ball lightly at it as the baby let out wet, little gurgles. She couldn’t see  _his_  face, but she felt him move inside her now and she cried harder. Because Clark wasn’t the daddy, was he? The daddy was locked up on the fourth floor back at headquarters and this was all too complicated and…  
  
She tried to dry up when the door slammed downstairs, shoving the bag back under and scrambling back into the bed as she heard Clark bounding up the steps. She’d managed to wipe her eyes and pull the covers back over her before he appeared in the doorway.   
  
He pointed at her. “You moved, didn’t you?” He didn’t let her answer, babbling on as kicked off his boots. “You know what I just realized? It’s New Year’s Day, so this is kind of perfect timing,” he said lightly, yawning as he unzipped his jeans. He climbed in behind her pulling her back against him. “Perfect day to start something new.” He drew in a breath then nuzzled into her neck.   
  
She closed her eyes, seeing the scratch marks and wondering if they’d faded, seeing the blue bag under the bed and wondering how she let things get this far, seeing Davis staring mournfully at her belly and wondering where he fit into all of this. These last, hazy hours, she’d been so caught up in the feel of it all, she hadn’t thought about the future and whether there was one. She’d just wanted Clark. But could she have him for keeps? Should she even entertain the idea?  
  
Either way she felt herself drifting off to the sound of his breath, growing deep and even against her, and the feel of his hand, resting almost possessively over her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! That was a nice, long smut break. I know I'd said this fic would have less smut than my usual far, but I can't give no smut at all!


	19. Chapter 19

_And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,  
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall..._

 

They didn't wake up until past three, Chloe mildly panicking about her ruined sleep schedule and her more than ruined top and her wasted day and Clark grinning at her, reminding her it was New Year's Day.  
  
“We don't have anything to do or anywhere to be. I don't even have patrol, so...” He raised his eyebrows and patted the bed.   
  
She pursed her lips, not sure if she wanted to laugh or scream right now. How could he be so chipper? She tossed her top in the wastebasket and moved to him. “Clark, I...”   
  
His eyes zeroed in on her breasts immediately. “Yeah?”   
  
She course-corrected and moved to his dresser, grabbing a white shirt from the badly folded tangle of red, white, and blue. “Very patriotic drawer you have here,” she muttered, pulling the shirt on  
  
“I'm a man who knows what he likes.” He was behind her by the time she poked her head out, trying to pull it up. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” He laughed.   
  
“No.” She pushed the shirt down resolutely and turned to him. “Just... Last night...”  
  
“Technically this morning,” he cut in, gripping the hem of the T-shirt, lightly tugging her back to the bed.  
  
“Fine. This morning...”   
  
He sat down, twisting a hand in the fabric and pulling her to him. “Yeah?”  
  
“This morning…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. The part of her that could organize patrols and outline a story really wanted to call it the worst timing at the least and, at the most, a horrible mistake. But there was this other part of her that was still staring at a blue striped jumper and holding a little rattle and just wanted to finish that sentence in a wet sob and wrap herself around him. And yet another part of her, the one that had no problem with the hand snaking up that T-shirt, wanted to wrap herself around him in an entirely different way.  
  
“This morning… I mean, I…” She couldn’t do any of those things, not with him staring up at her with a goofy smile. “We didn’t eat. I’m starving,” she finally said, knowing that would at least buy her some time to think. “I haven’t eaten since…”  
  
He was gone.   
  
Good.  
  
She had to decide. What was this? The worst thing ever or the best? Could it actually be both? She backed away from the bed, but that didn’t help because she could now see that white bag with blue dots peeking from under. She could also see her abandoned, still tangled pants. That helped a little. A shower might help a little more.  
  
He knocked on the bathroom door halfway through, offering both breakfast and help scrubbing any hard-to-reach places. She passed on the latter, but said she’d be downstairs for the other soon. Then she stood under the spray, trying to decide what to say when she did go downstairs, what to do.  
  
Then again, wasn’t it New Years Day? A nationally recognized holiday? Didn’t Clark just point out they had nothing to do and nowhere to be?  
  
They ended up on his couch, watching the DVR-ed parade and pretending, at least on her end, that nothing had changed. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine Martha Kent poking her head out of the kitchen and asking them if they wanted sodas or chips.  
  
Well, except for Clark lying behind her with a hand up her (technically, his) shirt. That kind of muddied the flashback. Not that teenage Chloe would have minded. Come to think of it, grown-up Chloe didn’t mind. What was the problem here?   
  
His hand slid to her stomach as if to remind her.  
  
“Has he been kicking a lot lately,” he asked lightly.   
  
“Huh?”  
  
His hand circled lightly. “I felt him a few times when you were sleeping. You didn’t even wake up. I figured you were used to it happening if you can sleep through it.”   
  
“Uh… I don’t know if it’s kicking, exactly. But he adjusts a lot more.”  _How was he so okay about this?_  
  
“Darn. I was thinking you had a little soccer player in there. I mean, it’s not my sport, but I could get into it.”  
  
She frowned. “Yes. He’s a boy, so there  _must_  be some sport assigned to every action.”  
  
“Hey, I’d feel the same about a girl. Like I told you, sports help with coordination, adjustment, discipline…”  
  
“Yes, sports are the best. Can we watch the parade now?”  
  
He chuckled. “Isn’t that the Met U color guard? Look at their coordination. I bet they played team sports growing up.”  
  
She sat up. “Well, they had to crack a _book_ to get in there in the first place, so…”   
  
He pulled her back down, chuckling. “Shh! I can’t hear the commentary.”   
  
_“And here comes Underdog!”  
  
“You know, Fred, with the size of that balloon, I wouldn't go around calling him Underdog.”  
  
“Ha! Certainly not where he can hear, Donna. He’s definitely a top dog today!”_  
  
“Yeah, that’s great stuff,” Chloe muttered.   
  
Clark reached over her for a handful of popcorn. “What do you want? They’re morning show people.”  
  
“It’s not even that. I mean, how many people watching even know who Underdog was? I only know from retro cartoons on cable.”  
  
“I watched a few and I like Underdog. He’s got a cool M.O.”  
  
“You would.” Chloe sighed. “I have this theory about the Metropolis parade. They pay half price for all the balloons nobody else wants. I mean Underdog, some random smiley face, a gummy bear… We don’t even have Garfield!”  
  
“Ooh, it’s a conspiracy. Maybe you should have volunteered to cover it.”  
  
“In sub-zero weather? No, thank you. And stop eating over me. You’re getting popcorn in my hair and down my shirt...”  
  
“My shirt. But I bet I can clean it up with no hands.” He tucked her under him and dove in.  
  
“Stop!” She yelled it, but it must have lost its punch with all the giggles. “Seriously, Clark… we… No, stop! We need to…. to talk.”  
  
He stilled and came out from under the T-shirt, red-faced, clearing his throat. “I guess we probably should, after last night.”  
  
She sighed and pushed herself up, leaning against one arm and facing him as he braced himself against the other. She stared at him, trying to think how to start. “Clark… Last night was amazing and insane and… and…”  
  
“And probably something we should have done a long time ago,” he added soberly.  
  
“Maybe,” she had to agree. “But that’s just it. There was a time for that then and now…” Well, she wanted to say this wasn’t the time, that having any more sex would just complicate things further… But his leg was almost casually brushing hers and maybe one more…  
  
“Chloe, it was my fault.”  
  
She let out a breath of laughter, rolling her eyes. “Clark, if anyone was pushing things along, it was…”  
  
“No, it was my fault we never talked like this before. Months ago, you tried to tell me… and at least twice, I just brushed you off, saying we needed to start over.”  
  
Apparently, he thought she was talking about the deep, dark secrets portion of last night. “No, I mean…”  
  
“What we really needed was to get it all out. You were right about that.”   
  
"Not I don't love being right, in general, but..."”  
  
He tucked his legs under, leaned into her. “The worst part is that I should have known better, after all these years. There should be no secrets when you’re part of a working team.”  
  
“Exactly. On that note…”  
  
“Don’t worry.” He pulled her to him, tucked her head into his shoulder. “I’m going to clear things up with Oliver.”  
  
She frowned, leaning against him. “Clear things up how?”  
  
“I mean, he can’t just blackmail you and…”  
  
“Clark!” She pushed away. “You’re not going to say a word about that. I never meant to tell you that! I was overtired and…”  
  
“Chloe, I don’t care. You spent all this time thinking you were some remorseless murderer because he…”  
  
“He was in a dark place!”  
  
“You know what? We were all in a dark place that year!”  
  
“He funds everything we do now, the patrols, the lives we save…”  
  
“You said it yourself last night, Chloe. You don’t get a free pass on all your bullshit just because you save lives!”  
  
She stood up. “You know what? Fine! Let’s get it all out with everyone. Let’s make sure they know that I pushed you into that wall…”  
  
“Chloe…”  
  
“That I can hurt you now!”  
  
“That’s between us! You barely ever…”  
  
She whirled on him. “But it happened, Clark. If you think everything that happens needs to be aired out, then why not that? What I told you about Oliver was supposed to be between us, but if we’re loosening that whole…”  
  
“Chloe!” He gripped her arms, stilling her. “It’s not the same thing.”  
  
“Yes. It was almost a year ago and barely applies to anything now, unlike my little problem,” she finished on a rather broken breath. “So you tell me what matters!”  
  
He didn’t tell her anything. He just pulled her in, meeting her lips, then pulled her to the couch.  
  
She let him, more than let him.   
  
And that was probably a bad idea. She’d decided it had to be, but it didn’t feel like one when he touched her.  
  
************  
  
By the time she got home, it was dark and she had to physically shoo Clark out as he was making very suggestive remarks about tucking her in. But she ended up pulling him in just as he was out the door upon seeing a very noticeable mark on his neck.  
  
“It’s just… It’s like a hickey,” he said, brushing her off. “Come on. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”  
  
“But it is a big…”  
  
“I kind of like it.” He leaned in. “I could give you one, I bet, if I was careful.”  
  
“Clark, that’s not the point. If I…”  
  
“Chloe, if I were fully human, this wouldn't be a big deal.” He threw up his hands. “I told you before. I’m not afraid of you and this… This is just... Hell, it's actually evening things up. Do you know how afraid I’ve been of this?” He pulled her close.“Of us? Even before us, I was so afraid of hurting anyone who got close to me? But with you…”  
  
“What? Is this better? That I can hurt you?”  
  
“You haven’t hurt me!”  
  
“I marked you. You can say it didn’t hurt all you like--”  
  
“Because it didn’t!”  
  
She shooed him out for real, then, not wanting to talk about it anymore. How could she, when he refused to even acknowledge it? Clark seemed intent on making it out to be harmless. She’d already failed at talking to Emil about it and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to Sarah about it -- or at all, after Sarah’s manipulative little impromptu couples session. There was only one person who might understand. He’d been there, after all.  
  
She pulled the two-way radio from her nightstand drawer and plugged it in, stared at it for… she didn’t even know how long, but at least until the little red light turned green.  
  
She reached for it, then, but that was as far as she got. She never picked it up.  
  
*************  
  
January 2nd marked her last session with Sarah, though Chloe didn’t know it when she walked in at 7 a.m. She’d planned for this one to be different, though. Sessions with Sarah had been a check in before work, something to help her get through the week to come. She hadn’t appreciated Sarah turning her interview into a couples’ session with Clark and she had been prepared to tell her so.  
  
It wasn’t until Sarah smiled, pushed that ever present plate of baked goods across the re-purposed room’s coffee table, that she wondered… What was the point?  
  
Would Sarah stop sticking her do-gooder nose in? Probably not.  
  
And hadn’t it done some good? Maybe too much good, considering where that night had gone. But before then, hadn’t she and Clark hashed out every damned thing that was weighing them down?  
  
No. She wasn’t actually mad at Sarah. Even when she considered Sarah’s true purpose here, dealing with Davis, hiding that from her along with all of them, she couldn’t be angry.  
  
They were trying, all of them, to do the right thing, whatever that was. Hell, she had her own struggles with that mysterious right thing. So she couldn’t be angry. She also couldn't be blind to all she knew. She pretty much didn’t know how to  _be_  these days.  
  
“You don’t seem to have much to say today.” Sarah laughed. “Or anything to say,” she finished awkwardly.  
  
“I’m just trying to sort it out,” Chloe said calmly. “I need a minute.”  
  
“Okay.” Sarah smiled.  
  
“Is the rest of the gang better? When you work with them?” Chloe forced a laugh. “I’d hate to think I’m harder to deal with than Bart.”  
  
Sarah held her smile. “Let’s just say Bart is… always Bart.”  
  
“Even in sessions?” Chloe prodded.  
  
Sarah shrugged. “Every time I see Bart, he’s… an energetic force,” she finished with a laugh   
  
Chloe tried to force one as well. At least that confirmed it, along with the way Sarah and Clark and just about all of them hedged about their sessions with Group Counselor Sarah. They didn’t have them. Sarah was here for Davis… and her. The two most damaged and damaging parties in all this.  
  
Chloe leaned over the coffee table. “If I asked you something, point blank, would you answer me honestly?”  
  
Sarah didn’t flinch. “Yes. I would.”  
  
_Why didn’t anyone tell me Davis was here? Why do they hide so much? Am I so fragile they think I can’t handle it?_  
  
Then again, didn’t she know the answers to those? They all, Clark included, seemed to think Davis being here was something she didn’t want to know. And, God help her, she wished she didn’t sometimes. If she’d never gone all Bluebeard’s wife, she’d just be dealing with an unplanned pregnancy, a desirable career, and an extremely desirable man, who she had spent many years actively desiring, who seemed to have no problem with that first problem with the way Clark had been fussing over her for months, bought sporty onesies and toys. If this were any normal pregnancy, her only issue might be Clark’s annoying investment in making that poor kid play sports.   
  
But this wasn’t a normal pregnancy and Clark wasn’t the father. The father was locked up in the attic. And she had to think of how he fit into all that or if he even should.  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
“I’m just… gathering my thoughts.”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “That’s not a good sign.”  
  
“So you know me so well,” Chloe snapped.  
  
Sarah drew back. “I just know you’re at your most honest when you don’t have time to over think things. I think most people are.”  
  
“You want me to be honest?” Chloe leaned forward. “Okay, let’s just talk about my dream. You know why I run from Clark? Because I don’t want to hurt him. See, I once had this very pleasant dream about Davis Bloome.” She stopped, waited to see if Sarah flinched. She didn’t. She was as good at hiding as the rest of them, Chloe supposed. “I gave in to Davis in this dream and Clark ended up as some gory trophy mounted on the wall, so I can’t help thinking this new dream is just more of the same. I run off with this baby and Clark chases me and… I’m not afraid  _of_  Clark. I’m afraid  _for_  Clark. I get that now because… because…”  _because I can hurt him right now. So what does that mean about what’s inside me?_  
  
She couldn’t even make herself finish that, not for Sarah, not for anyone. It was too horrifying to comprehend. She slid a hand over her belly. How could she fear this baby and still want to protect it… him… it?  
  
She stood, suddenly annoyed again, that she had to be open when everyone she knew was hiding so much. “Maybe I’m not the problem. Maybe it’s them.”  
  
“Them?”  
  
“Come on, Sarah, they have their secrets.” She strode to the window, not expecting Sarah to confirm or deny anything, but needing to say what she could. “Oliver keeps making vague hints at plans, fixing everything, then he's always out of town. Victor still looks at me like I'm a ticking baby bomb who’s gonna blow any second. Bart just keeps feeding me and making jokes. Dinah keeps pushing me at Clark as if a little sex would solve everything. But it didn’t. It’s only confusing me more!”  
  
“So you and…”  
  
“And Clark is the worst of all of them!” She swiped at her eyes and turned from the window. “He's buying toys and little outfits and I’m not even supposed to know he did it and… and… How am I supposed to tell him he can’t?”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “Can’t what?”  
  
“He can’t play Daddy,” she sobbed. “I don’t even think Clark should be in a ten foot radius of,” she cradled her stomach, “him… it. God! Him, it! I can’t even decide. So you want to know how you can help me?”  
  
Sarah seemed like she wanted to nod, but couldn’t quite get there.  
  
“You tell me what’s going to happen! Because every damned problem I have is solved by just knowing that! What to do! What's the future? What am I even carrying?”  
  
“I don’t…”  
  
“This baby might come out all sweet and soft and adorable, but what about later? That's what I need to know and, unless you're psychic, you can't help with that!”  
  
Sarah took a breath, then nodded, as if conceding. “I wish I could.”  
  
“Then I don’t see the point in going on with this.” Chloe moved to the door, gripped the knob, then stilled. “I know you want to help, but nobody here, you included, actually knows what I'm going through,” Chloe finished before moving out.  
  
***************  
  
It was a bit of a relief to get back to work that morning. It was something she could be sure of. She clocked in, dealt with edits, took assignments (usually extremely boring or fluffy ones with her increasingly obvious condition), dealt with gossip, made excuses for Clark’s two disappearances that afternoon, and clocked out.   
  
Granted, the gossip she’d dealt with hadn’t always been so personal, but she’d like to think she laughed it off as easily as if it wasn’t.  _No, she was not getting married. No, Clark was not a deadbeat. And why did everyone think Clark was the father?_ Also, Clark ruined everything when he showed up after his little absence and very obviously put his arm around her with most of their floor in line for the elevator behind them.  
  
Clark didn’t seem to see any problem with that, as they walked back to her place. “I only touched your shoulder.”  
  
“And my waist. And asked what we’re doing for dinner.”  
  
“You still didn’t answer, by the way.”  
  
“Clark, I spent all day telling everyone you’re not my babydaddy only for you to make it look like you are, making you the asshole who’s not putting a ring on it.”  
  
“Is that all? Who…”  
  
“And the ones that don’t, think that think Jimmy knocked me up and ran off, making him the asshole. The rest probably think I just sleep around so much I don’t even know, making me the asshole!”  
  
“Why is anyone the... asshole?” he finished hesitantly, then nudged her. “And so what if they think I’m the father? They’re probably going to keep thinking it, so let 'em.”  
  
“Oh, God!” She stopped in front of headquarters. “You actually do want to play daddy,” she said, almost under her breath… which didn’t matter because Clark heard anyway.  
  
“Play daddy?” He turned her to face him. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
They’d done enough fighting the other night. She wasn’t itching for more. She took a deep breath, trying to sound as reasonable and level-headed as possible. “You talk about him playing team sports, you say it’s okay if people think he’s yours. I’m just saying that those are some pretty big presumptions.”  
  
“Okay,” he said tightly, drumming a hand against his thigh. “I’m just saying that I don’t care if they do think that. And I’m not presuming anything. I know exactly who the father is. But, considering the choices that  _father_  made, I don’t think he’ll be around or even that he  _should_.”  
  
“I see. So are we going to hash it out, that last little secret?”  
  
Clark pursed his lips, stared at her for a long time. “I thought we didn’t have any more secrets. Unless you have something to share.”  
  
She did. So did he. And she just didn’t want to get into it. “I… found the bag under your bed,” she said instead.  
  
He blinked at her. “That wasn’t a secret. It was a surprise.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “A surprise for what?”  
  
“You  _know_  what.”  
  
She turned and moved to her building. “So now we’re going to throw a little blue and white party? What exactly do you think I’m carrying?”  
  
He followed her. “A baby. That’s all we have to go on now. And some of us think there should be a baby shower.”  
  
She took out her keys. “And some of us don’t.” She wondered who else was on her team with this. Definitely Oliver, maybe Victor, too.  
  
“He’s going to need…”  
  
“I’m not stupid, Clark. I know there are basic… supplies to get before h... it… things happen,” she finished, still having pronoun issues. She jerked open the main door, but turned to stop him following her in. “But I will get them. This is not something that requires a party.”  
  
“Seriously?” He backed away a step. “When you moved in here, we talked about giving this kid a chance.”  
  
“We? There you go again, presuming…”  
  
“Fine. You talked about it. But I told you I’d be there and I meant it. So what are you saying now, that you don’t want me there?”   
  
_No… and yes._  If this were the kind of pregnancy that invited showers, there would be no question about wanting him there. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m tired and... Don’t you have patrol?” She started to close the door.  
  
He stopped it with his hand. “I’m tired, too. I have been fighting you for months now on every little thing and maybe I should take the hint and just stop,” he finished, turning and stalking off.  
  
She stared at the empty space he’d left for a moment before letting the front door close. She’d ended up picking a fight after all. It was just as well, she decided as she moved to the elevator. At least being in a fight lowered her risk of sleeping with him. If she knew anything about Clark after all these years, she wouldn’t see him for at least twenty-four hours. She’d have that much time to figure out exactly how to get to the hug at the end of this fight, if that hug should even exist.  
  
She couldn’t even pace the floor, her body was so tired from all the extra weight she was carting around. She ended up sitting in bed, trying to decide if she wanted to eat, sleep, or cry. She knew all three had to happen, but not in what order.   
  
The decision was taken out of her hands and she pulled several tissues from the box on her nightstand, giving in.   
  
_“So what are you saying now, that you don’t want me there?”_  
  
That was the problem, right there, she did want him there and it was a selfish thing to want, considering what was inside her. She’d seen the evidence by now, the changes in her. This wasn’t a normal child. The question was:  _how_  not normal?   
  
She stared at her nightstand drawer, even went so far as to pull the radio out. When had things started for Davis? They’d tried so hard not to talk about the beast in their time on the run, tried to keep things light, as if speaking of it would call it into being. Right now, she wanted to know…   
  
There was a knock on her front door. She quickly shoved it back in the drawer and moved out, swiping at her eyes. “Who is it?”  
  
“Guess,” she heard – angrily, too. “This’ll just take a second.”  
  
Somehow, from Clark’s tone, she doubted it, but she opened the door.  
  
Clark held out a container, not meeting her eyes. “I’m not here to bother you or presume or anything. Just had time before patrol, so I brought you dinner. It’s spaghetti. Sorry if that’s presumptuous or something. But Bart made it and said to bring you some, so here!”  
  
She took the tupperware. “Tell him thanks,” she said blandly, deciding not to address the rest.  
  
“I will.” He turned away, then just as quickly back. “By the way, just want to point out that it’s pretty much common knowledge that if you’re in a relationship with someone who has a kid, then you are in a relationship with the kid, too, and that includes a kid who’s… not quite born.” He met her eyes in the open doorway. “That’s just how it works unless you’re some kind of jerk, which I don’t think I am.”  
  
“I never said you were. But how are we in a relationship?”  
  
He huffed loudly – and strongly enough to blow her hair back. “So yesterday meant… I mean, what did that mean to you?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she said, clutching the tupperware with both shaky hands and moving to her kitchen. That was the very thing she was having pretty much no luck figuring out. “I told you, Clark. I can’t think about the future because I have no idea what will be in it,” she said as she placed the food on the counter with blurring vision.  
  
“How about me?” He was right on her heels. “I’m in it. Okay? You want to call that playing daddy or being presumptuous, then fine. But I’m there. So if you don’t want me there now, then… then… tough,” he finished, his voice softening as he turned her to him. “Have you been crying?”  
  
“No,” she lied, which was a dumb, as even that came out on a sob.  
  
He didn’t say anything else, just pulled her in and held her in the tiny kitchenette, rubbing her back and breathing with her. “Chloe, I’m here,” he whispered.  
  
It was supposed to make her feel better, but she just sobbed harder. Every time she tried to tell him that this kid could be dangerous, that she could be dangerous when carrying him, Clark just brushed it off. It was no use trying anymore. What would she have to do? Leave?  
  
The thought of it broke something in her and she pulled away, but only enough to meet his lips, walk them both back to her bedroom, pull him inside in hopes of getting just a moment before that radio beeped. It was another mistake. It had to be, no matter how much it felt like anything but that. But it was one she needed to make while she could.  
  
**************  
  
While she could, she decided to keep manning Watchtower. There was no secret agenda in those weeks. She didn’t even try to see Davis when they were off patrolling. She didn’t want them to know that she knew, after all. It would just muddle things up even more. And things were muddled enough.   
  
It would help if Clark stopped coming by with lame excuses. It would help even more if she didn’t, after he’d finished fixing a wobbly table or being sure her heating vents were clean enough, pull him back from hemming and hawing at the door and into her room. She’d have more time to think if she wasn’t always between touches. It seemed her time was always divided between sex with Clark and not having sex with Clark and that was no way to live.   
  
But damn if it didn’t seem like living, every time he touched her. But she could barely ignore the ever –literally – growing presence between them and the tiny marks she left in her more insensible moments.  
  
“Just let me look at it,” she insisted, following him to the door as he shrugged into his red jacket, not even a shirt on, covering the finger nail marks on his shoulder.  
  
“No. It’s fine. I have to feed the animals. Besides, I think I may have done that one.”  
  
“How, Clark?” She stomped her foot. “Stop brushing this off!”  
  
“I’m not.” He leaned in to meet her lips quickly. “We can talk about it later, if you’re so worried.”  
  
“We never do because you keep saying it’s nothing!”  
  
“In a few minutes, it will be gone with a little sunlight, so it will  _be_  nothing!” he turned at the open door. “Chloe, I would tell you if it hurt.” He leaned in again.  
  
But she stepped back. “No, you wouldn’t.”  
  
He sighed. “We’ll talk at work later.”  
  
“No, we won’t,” she said, but he was gone. “It’s Saturday,” she finished lamely.  
  
In these last weeks, they’d gone over so many pieces of who they were to each other, who they could be, but this aspect, this idea that there was any danger between her, him, and what she carried while she carried it… He refused to even entertain the idea.  
  
“He’s a baby, Chloe. Even if he had the ability to hurt me, how could he?”  
  
Considering she still had issues with the “he” and “it” of it all, she was annoyed that Clark seemed so secure with “he.” It made her feel both guilty on her part and afraid on his. But he shut right off whenever she tried to share those fears, so much that she wondered if she hadn’t cut things off with Sarah too soon.   
  
Then again, Sarah wasn’t the only person to talk to. She wasn’t even the best one. She shivered and closed her robe as she moved back to her room, staring at her nightstand drawer.  
  
She didn’t like to think of him as an option, very often liked to forget he was there. If he wasn’t, she’d just be a single mom-to-be dealing with an overly solicitous boyfriend… if she could call Clark that. She wasn’t sure if he’d love or hate the title, it being such a juvenile word for a grown man and woman.  
  
She stared at the radio, knowing she had to use it sooner or later. Why had she taken it if not to use it? Maybe just a test, to make sure it worked…  
  
She pulled it to her, held the button on the side. “H-Hello?”  
  
Nothing.  
  
Of course, that wasn’t the correct terminology. Davis had been a paramedic. “Bloome? Do you copy?” She released the button and laughed at herself. If he wasn’t answering, it wasn’t because of proper radio technique. Maybe he knew, as she did, that they were better off not speaking. Their brief time together had made enough trouble and…  
  
_“Yes, Chloe.”_  
  
She stared at the radio.  
  
_”I mean, yes. Copy, Sullivan.”_  
  
She pressed the button. “Hi, there.”  
  
_“Hi. I’ve been hoping you’d call.”_  
  
“Really?” Her fingers slipped on the button and she righted them. “I figured you were hoping I wouldn’t call at five in the morning. Maybe not at all,” she added lightly, then regretted the addition.  
  
_“Why not at all?”_  
  
“I don’t know,” she lied.  
  
_”No, tell me.”_  
  
She stayed silent. Her instinct was to lie and say it was a joke, but she was damned sick of either brushing everything off or outright lying.  
  
_"Chloe? You still there?”_  
  
“I am. I didn’t think you wanted to talk much, since you didn’t seem too happy about my… baby-on-board situation.”  
  
_“I’m still not. I wouldn’t wish what I had on another… being.”_   She could detect a slight sneer in his voice.  _“But what’s done is done. Maybe the… situation won’t be like mine. We can all hope.”_  
  
She frowned in the predawn light. She hadn’t expected that much honesty. She barely knew what to do with it. Still, something about this baby being referred to as “what’s done is done” or “the situation” rankled her for his… its sake.   
  
_“I hear you stopped seeing Sarah.”_  
  
She shook her head and pressed the button. “From where?”  
  
_“Sarah. We talk candidly sometimes. I asked how you were and she said she barely knew as you stopped seeing her. She seemed hurt.”_  
  
“Yes, I’m a horrible person for rejecting Saint Sarah.”  
  
_“No need to get so defensive.”_  He laughed.  _“I know she can be a little much sometimes, but she only digs in because she really wants to help.”_  
  
“Yes. They all do. I have constant help with every aspect of my life. But I’ve gotten all the help Sarah can give me. I don’t need some well-meaning outsider’s perspective, I need….” She took a deep breath and went on. “I need to know what the future could hold or who it could hurt.” She released the button, waiting.  
  
There was silence on the other end, for what seemed like a full minute before he spoke.  _“And why do you think the future could hurt anyone?”_  
  
She hadn’t told anyone she’d marked Clark. And he seemed so insistent on keeping it that way. Sometimes she agreed. Certain members of the group were only just starting to treat her with something approaching normality. She didn’t want to ruin that just yet. But Davis… there was nothing normal there to start. Couldn’t he be someone she could tell?  
  
She took a breath, but couldn’t even begin to start. There was something about his attitude to whatever it was inside her, the sort of detached hostility that was strange and off-putting.   
  
“I don’t know for sure,” she lied. “That’s all I’m saying. In that moment, when this happened, how much of you was human and how much…”  
  
There was a beep and she let up on the button.  
  
_“None of me was ever human. You should know that. Even the parts that seemed that way were from Kryptonian DNA.”_    
  
“Of course. Yes. I knew that, I guess, but you never displayed powers.” She frowned. “Do you have anything now?”  
  
_“A pretty good immune system and it’s hard to leave a mark on me, but nothing showy like Clark.”_  He chuckled bitterly.   
  
“Clark’s never showy,” she had to point out.  
  
_“But he could be if he wanted to. I don’t know. I never looked into or thought much about my abilities. I just focused on keeping them away, most times. But I think about it sometimes. Most of the strength and speed or even stamina I had were contained to the beast and everything else… Well, you saw for yourself. They were more… adaptational, reactionary abilities, like the invulnerability and even a kind of camouflage. I took on the human form without thinking, picked up language. It’s like I could see and mirror.”_  
  
“And what about the beast?”  
  
_“What about it?”_  
  
“When did it start?”  
  
_“I don’t know for sure. Because I can’t remember my life without the blackouts.”_  
  
“But when did it first… hurt someone?”  
  
_“I told you what Tess told me.”_  
  
“But maybe she was telling it wrong. She wasn’t there."  
  
_"Lionel was. And his men were found dead."_  
  
"But you were just a kid. How could you really have…”  
  
_“It didn’t matter. I was angry and scared and it all came back when she told me. It's unavoidable, Chloe. The first day I killed was the first day I existed.”_

Chloe sat, staring at the radio, chilled to the bone and not just because it was the dead of winter. He didn’t say anything more. And it took her what felt like an hour to say anything, herself.  
  
“That doesn’t seem possible,” she finally whispered, “for someone so small to...”  
  
 _“It happened, regardless. I was… I don't know, seven or eight by human size. But that was the smallest I remember being.”_  
  
She clutched her stomach. Emil kept saying the baby was progressing normally, but how long would that last? Davis had grown feet in a day. “Have you ever thought about why that was?”  
  
 _“I think it was about adaptability. I think… I’m not completely sure, but I think, when I first saw Clark, my growth just... matched him, mirrored him. And then Lex, and then… After that, I seemed to grow at a normal rate.”_  
  
“And the beast? What about his growth?”  
  
 _“I never got a look at him back then. I never remembered what happened in the black-outs. I don’t know if, when I changed, if he grew to the size he was that awful night. But it would explain the black-outs better. Maybe they were a way to cope with the pain of the body change.”_  
  
She’d seen the change. She clutched her stomach again. If the child's condition was even half as severe as Davis’, if he had a beast, even if it was less violent, there would be such pain that it cause him to lose consciousness. No child should have to feel that much pain.  
  
 _”Chloe, why all the questions? Is there a specific reason…”_  
  
“I told you,” she cut in. “I’m just looking at the situation for you. It doesn’t mean... well, what's inside me will have the same issues. I have no reason to believe it will be anything but normal.”  
  
 _Then why don’t you call it ‘him’?”_  
  
She had been, in her mind, changing it back and forth. “I need to go,” she said, abruptly shutting the radio off and shoving it back in the drawer. She couldn’t take any more bad news. Not today. She laid on her side, shivering, but too numb to grab for the blankets. She didn’t have to.   
  
Clark was back almost immediately with a tell-tale whoosh of air behind her. “Hey, what are you doing without blankets? It’s probably freezing.”   
  
“I’m fine,” she lied.  
  
He ignored her, piling them on. “Liar. You’re shivering.”  
  
“Well, I’m fine now. How were the animals?”  
  
“Everyone’s eaten,” he said softly, snaking a hand under to rub her stomach. “All but me… and you two.”

 _You two._  
  
“I’m not awake enough yet,” she got out, trying to make her voice light over the lump in her throat.  
  
He chuckled and moved under the covers. “It’s fine. I can wait a little.”  
  
She tried not to do it, but she let out a sob.  
  
“Hey.” He leaned over her. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“Nothing. Just hormones,” she sobbed. “I cry every damned second these days. Stop being so surprised.”  
  
“Okay. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Stop being sorry. I should be sorry.”  
  
He smiled and wiped at her eyes with the edge of the sheet. “For what?”  
  
She wasn’t sure. But she had the inescapable feeling that she’d be sorry for something soon enough.  
  
*********************   
  
A week later, she’d figured it out. She was sorry she’d let things get to this point. Here she was, hiding her talks with Davis from Clark. She was hiding her main concerns from Davis. She was hiding the same things from Emil. And the rest of them… it would be easier to list off what they did know than what they didn’t. She’d been opting out of Watchtower all week, claiming she was tired when all she did was lay in the dark and worry until Clark showed up after patrol to help her forget. She was sleepwalking through this entire situation and she didn’t know how to change that.   
  
She should have told Emil when Clark revealed she could hurt him. She should have told the others she’d found Davis. She should tell Clark, at the least. And now things had gotten to the point where she didn’t know where to start with any of it.   
  
She and Clark barely talked outside of work. She couldn’t seem to let him, whenever she had him alone – not just because he kept talking about what was coming like some happy event, but because… Well, they’d talked a lot all these years. They hadn’t touched nearly enough, so she’d rather just touch him while she could. That wasn’t just about sex being almost impossibly uncomfortable, soon enough. Somewhere inside, it always felt like the last chance. And she cried every damned time.  
  
He excused it all as hormones, maybe because he didn’t see. He still closed his eyes tight still, only opening them at the end, handing her a tissue from the nightstand and asking her if she was sure she was okay, rubbing her back as she sobbed away the afterglow.  
  
She always said it was just the intensity. It was half-true. She felt herself flush, feeling like a deviant for thinking about sex at work. Then again, she’d thought she was a deviant before, with Davis. She’d come closer with Davis than with anyone until Clark and had been so afraid that she had some sort of monster or danger kink. That was all dispelled with Clark. The sex – even the sex that wasn’t quite sex – was explosive. But maybe that was still that “last chance” feeling?  
  
But why was that feeling there? Maybe she was over-complicating things. Couldn’t she just keep going this way -- being with Clark, talking out her fears with Davis? She was more even-tempered these days, almost normal, outside the afterglow weeps. Maybe this could…   
  
The sobering fact that she was sitting outside Tess’ office to firm up her maternity leave told her that was a stupid thought. This birth was coming and change was coming with it, whatever form that took.  
  
There was no normal here. Davis was both her main confidante and the estranged father of her child and Clark was her lover and possibly something she shouldn’t have in this situation.  
  
“Chloe?”  
  
She blinked up at Karen.  
  
“She can see you now.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Karen peered at her. “Miss Mercer. Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Chloe forced a smile. “Just finding it hard to gather my thoughts lately – that and stand,” she added with a grunt.  
  
Karen held out a hand. “Do you need…”  
  
“No, I’ll just take you down with me. I got it.” She stood with some effort.  
  
Karen rushed to the door, but didn’t open it yet, leaning in to whisper. “How long now?”   
  
“Five weeks, give or take.” She’d been saying it for days.  
  
She nodded to the bullpen, then gripped Chloe's left hand. “So is he waiting till after or…”  
  
Jesus, everyone felt all too free to touch her these days. She'd had her belly rubbed by some lady in the elevator earlier! Chloe sighed, preparing for the other thing she’d been saying for days. “Clark and I don’t have any intention of marrying.”  
  
“I get it. My cousin did the same thing, except it took her three years to lose the weight. But it was extra cute because her daughter was the flower girl.” Karen finally opened the door and Chloe was too eager to get this over with to correct her.  
  
Tess had been strange with her since after Christmas. She wasn’t quite as aloof to Clark, usually relaying Chloe’s assignments through him, but maybe that was Chloe’s fault. Clark had been gentler with Tess in delivering the news about her parentage and, really, she and Chloe had never exchanged anything that could be mistaken for a friendly word. Sometimes Chloe regretted that. Sometimes she thought, if they had met some other way, she might have liked Tess.   
  
Tess barely looked up from her planner. “Yes?”  
  
“I won’t take up much of your time,” Chloe said, moving in. “I’m thinking my leave should start in two weeks and I’m willing to take some assignments at home. Obviously, any interviews would have to be over the phone or through email, but I have a few possible…”  
  
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Tess said, glancing up, but only briefly meeting her eyes. “You are entitled to a work-free maternity leave.”  
  
Chloe frowned. “That doesn’t mean I want it that way.”  
  
“Tough,” Tess said flashing her a quick smile before putting her eyes on her planner again. “I have no intention of putting together work on the off chance you’re able to complete it. You might have more on your mind.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by…”  
  
Tess finally met her eyes and stayed. “You’re about to bring a life in the world. Things might change. That’s all I mean.”  
  
“Gee, thanks.” Chloe gave her a very small and very false smile. “Here I thought it would be just like a tonsillectomy.”  
  
Tess’ eyes slid down again. “You can take your leave this week and contact me if and when you want an assignment and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll excuse me…”  
  
“Don’t do me any favors,” Chloe said. “Maybe I should take it today.”  
  
“Maybe you should,” Tess said levelly.  
  
“Great. I’ll gather my things by the end of the day,” Chloe spat, moving out and wishing it was more of a storm-off than a waddle.   
  
She stopped outside the door, catching her breath. Why had she just done that?   
  
She turned to frown at the closed door. She hadn’t done that. Tess had done that. She’d maneuvered the entire encounter.   
  
Clark moved in from the bullpen. “Did you tell her about the Star Labs interview? I figure I can go with Jared to get the shots you want even if…”  
  
“We didn’t get that far.” She moved past him in a daze. “She doesn’t want me to work. She wants me to start leave early. Today.”  
  
Clark huffed behind her. “Where does she get off with that? We had everything planned.” He moved in front of her, taking her shoulders. “If she’s trying to use your pregnancy to edge you out of assignments, that’s technically…”  
  
“I don’t know what she was doing,” Chloe cut in. "She’s been strange with me since after we told her.” She shook her head. “Then again, maybe it’s not that. Maybe it’s ever since I stopped hiding this,” she gestured down to her stomach. “Maybe it makes her uncomfortable. I don’t know.”  
  
“Well, she has no right to…”  
  
“Clark, leave it alone. Maybe she’s right. I can barely stay on my feet. I’m fine with this,” she lied, glancing back at the door. She had to be. She couldn’t change it, after all, however it was Tess saw her.  
  
**********************  
  
Tess glanced through the blinds before getting up to snap them shut. She’d meant what she said to Chloe. Things might change. Neither of them knew how. For her part, Tess didn’t want to know. Ever since Lex had disclosed he had plans for Chloe and her… he refused to call it a child. Either way, Tess embraced the idea of plausible deniability now. She concentrated on the properties, on The Planet with some avoidance of Sullivan, on anything but what Lex was up to.  
  
Even if it was all for the good of the world, it was more than she could handle. Maybe Lex was right all those times he said she wasn’t ready. At the moment, she was glad enough to have Sullivan out of her sight. It was hard to see a person in front of her when all Lex talked about was a plan.   
  
She wondered when it would go into effect. She resisted opening the blinds. She wouldn't look at them. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t be part of it. She was just here to be the public face and that was more than enough.   
  
***************  
  
It was a little too much. Clark kept adjusting the couch pillows, Bart kept plying her with food, and Dinah had even started to suggest getting blind drunk before she remembered who she was talking to. They were all treating her like she’d been fired. The worst part was that she wasn’t sure she hadn’t been.  
  
“It’s just early leave,” she said above the nagging in her head. There had been this air of finality with Tess, hadn’t there? “Don’t you all have patrol?”  
  
“Well, yeah.” Dinah checked her watch. “But not for five minutes. We’ll be on time.”  
  
Chloe sighed. “Here, I could have sworn I heard Victor saying on-time is actually fifteen minutes late.”  
  
“Damn it, he did say that,” Bart said before disappearing, leaving the door slammed against the wall.  
  
She looked up at Dinah and Clark. “Just go. I’m fine. What can you guys do in five minutes?”  
  
Dinah laughed loudly. “Isn’t that a question for him?” She nudged Clark.  
  
Clark flushed and Chloe glared at her. She hadn’t told Dinah much, but she  _had_  told her with the assurance Dinah wouldn’t say a word.  
  
Dinah sobered immediately. “I have no idea what I’m saying. I’m so terribly sorry,” she said, backing to the door.  
  
Clark glanced after her before turning to Chloe. “Just between us, huh?”  
  
“Like you didn’t tell Victor,” she grumbled, averting her eyes.   
  
Clark chuckled and dropped to the couch next to her. “Well, he only lets me off early if I have… plans.” He adjusted her pillows. Again. “You’re sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Clark, it’s a Friday after five. I survived one of these just last week.”  
  
“Yeah, but not… on leave.” He frowned. “I’m going to have a talk with Tess Monday. Maybe…”  
  
“Don’t,” she cut in. “Maybe this is for the best. I haven’t caught up with you halfway on baby books. Maybe I should study up.” She smiled.  
  
He sighed and stood. “You don’t smile right when you lie, you know. It never meets your eyes.”  
  
“Fine. I wish I was a size five with a full-time job. But I can’t have that right now. So I think I’ll survive till you come home. Okay?’  
  
He grinned. “Come home?”  
  
“Come back after or… just… Will you go? It’s 7:02, so you’re technically seventeen minutes late by…”  
  
“Fine.” He rushed forward and pecked her lips. “I’ll be home soon,” he said before disappearing.  
  
She waited a moment before throwing off the blankets and pulling herself up from the pillow cocoon, moving to the window to see if the southern window was lit.  
  
It was a bit of a signal. He had more alone time than she did, so his light was usually on when she was looking to talk. She moved to the bedroom and turned on the radio. “You there?”  
  
 _“Where else would I be?”_  he answered.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
 _“No. I was thinking about hitting the clubs tonight, but it’s hard to get a cab up here.”_  He chuckled.  _”How are you?”_  
  
“A little smothered tonight. I think they all think I’m upset.”  
  
 _“Why?”_  
  
“Tess Mercer sent me on leave early, also told me not to work from home.”  
  
 _”And that’s not upsetting you?”_  
  
“Not enough for all this fuss. I don’t know. They finally went on patrol.”  
  
Davis sighed.  _“Sometimes I wonder what that’s like.”_  
  
“Lots of waiting around on either end. It’s very hurry-up-and-wait.”  
  
 _“No. I mean having a useful power. You know, I tried to suppress it for so long, but sometimes I think about what it would have been like to be left with some of it. Just to… maybe use it for good.”_  
  
She frowned. “You think that would have been possible with your make-up?”  
  
 _“No. I just… I guess it would be nice if my make-up was more like Clark’s. Less dangerous.”_  
  
“You’re wrong on that. Clark’s powers could be dangerous if he was… well…”  
  
 _“Not Clark?”_  
  
“Basically.”  
  
 _“It’s useless, anyhow. I don’t know if it’s something I could make up for.”_  
  
“Davis, don’t…”  
  
 _“Chloe, you don’t have to calm me down anymore. I can live with acknowledging what I’ve done. I just… I don’t know if I can…”_  
  
“What?” Chloe prodded when he stopped.  
  
 _“I don't know if I'll ever live with it happily. I don't even know if I deserve to.”_  
  
“Davis,” she sighed. “Look at the situation you were in. I can't say I wouldn't have...”  
  
 _“You wouldn't have. You would never have hurt anyone, not even low life criminals.”_  
  
“Neither of us could say that for sure -- how much of what you did was nature or how much was nurture.”  
  
 _“Still, it’s hard to always struggle between two realities. I think it could drive a person mad.”_  
  
“Or between two possibilities,” she said, almost to herself.  
  
 _“Meaning?”_  
  
She held her tongue. She hadn’t really meant to say that.  
  
 _“Out with it, Chloe. Is this an ‘it’ or ‘him’ conundrum?”_  
  
“I need to go,” she said quickly.  
  
 _“Chloe…”_  
  
“We’ll talk more tomorrow. I have to go to sleep,” she said quickly, shutting the radio off before he could say a word.  
  
But she didn’t sleep. Not even after Clark came back, crawled into her bed, and did things designed to tire her out.  
  
She cried, of course. And he kept his eyes closed until the end. But he didn’t settle down after handing her a tissue.   
  
He leaned over her. “Chloe, are you unhappy?”  
  
“I told you. It’s these stupid hormones. I just…” She blew her nose as if to avoid finishing the thought.  
  
“Just answer,” he said softly.  
  
“I want to be happy.”  
  
“I want to make that happen,” he whispered.   
  
 _Do you have a time machine?_  
  
She thought better of saying it. But it was a thought that entered her mind more than once when it came to her and Clark. She saw herself that summer after the Spring Formal, telling him they were better off as friends when she really wanted to go on that date he offered. She thought of that moment after Dark Thursday when she joked she wasn’t expecting them to hook up and she never saw that he wasn’t joking about that kiss. She wanted to go back to those moments and so many others and change them so they could have grabbed that happiness while they could.   
  
Because now, the way things were right now, she wasn’t sure she could see happiness in their future.   
  
So she closed her eyes and met his lips because that was all she knew of happiness now.  
  
**********************  
  
He woke up to feed the animals again and she saw a mark on his neck. But she kept silent, let him leave as she knew that gave her only a little time till he came back.  
  
She pulled out the radio. “Davis?” She hadn’t checked for the light, but she hoped…  
  
 _“Chloe?”_  He sounded groggy.  _”I’m up.”_  
  
“I’m sorry to…”  
  
 _“No. I was hoping you’d call. I think we left things weirdly last night.”_  
  
“Maybe a little,” she said softly, bracing herself. “I know I did. Davis…”  
  
 _“I don’t want to pressure you. Sometimes I feel bad enough, you have to deal with this because of me. If you don’t want to…”_  
  
“Davis, I want to talk about it,” she broke in. “I have to talk about it. Openly. Just once.”  
  
There was silence.  _“About what?”_  
  
“I can’t stand the thought of it,” she said, sniffling now. “Him being hurt when all he does is… I mean, he’s bought little outfits and toys and I want to believe… But I don’t know if I can.”  
  
 _“Chloe, slow down. Are you talking about Clark?”_  
  
“I hurt him. He says it didn’t hurt, doesn’t hurt, that it heals. And maybe it does, but I can’t stand that it can even happen…”  
  
 _“Okay. Calm down. Just start from the beginning. You hurt Clark somehow?”_  
  
“He says it doesn’t hurt,” she sobbed.   
  
 _“Chloe, just tell me. I might be the only one who can help.”_  
  
She took a deep breath and started from the beginning, leaving out the more intimate parts. He stopped her when she got to Christmas night.  
  
 _“So you black out?”_  
  
“Not exactly. It just. It happens without me realizing it. He thinks it’s fine. He thinks I'm carrying a little athlete and everything will be fine and I wish… I wish I could believe that.”  
  
 _“No, this is good. I spent so long in denial. You're dealing with it. You know there’s something different here and… Chloe, we can get through this.”_  
  
“How?” she sobbed.  
  
 _“I don’t know yet. If all else fails, we run away.”_  He laughed, as if this could be laughed at.  _”We’re good at that.”_  
  
He was silent after that and she wondered if he wasn’t joking at all. She didn’t have time to figure it out as there was a knock at her front door.   
  
 _”Chloe?”_  
  
“I have to go,” she said, turning the radio off and shoving it away before getting up, pulling the blankets around her as she moved to the living room. It couldn’t be Clark. He never knocked anymore.  
  
“Who is it?” she called out, drying her eyes quickly.  
  
“That girl you used to talk to before you got a boyfriend.”  
  
She laughed slightly and dried up as she moved to the door. “You know, we haven’t labeled…”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Dinah called out. “Sex is more fun than girl talk. But I think we’re due for some. Open up.”  
  
Chloe did and Dinah moved in. “Okay. Get dressed. I’m thinking omelets and maybe mimosas… I mean for me. You can have yours virgin-style, despite your activities these days.”  
  
She tried to laugh. She really had been neglecting Dinah. “You know, it’s early for this. I'm not dressed. Why don’t you come back in…”  
  
“I can wait.” Dinah planted herself on the couch and crossed her legs.   
  
“I think I need more rest is all.”  
  
“Pfft! Go on. I might even let you go out in jammies, but at least some shoes. Chop, chop!”  
  
Chloe frowned at her. Usually, any one of them backed off the minute she said she was tired. Something was up.   
  
It took two cabs, three omelets between them, and two hours, but she found out what when Dinah insisted she come into headquarters to check out the redesigned commissary.  
  
She should have known the redesign would consist of blue and white balloons and streamers.  
  
“SURPRISE!”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the year plus wait, especially those who've been reading this from the start. As some of you may know, I have things going on. Family things, work things, life things. I started out hoping I'd make time for fic and kind of beating myself up internally for not doing it. Then I kind of let that go and realized I'd get back to it when I actually could, as in having the time and the inclination. 
> 
> I probably could have made the time easier, though, if I felt more inclination. The fact is I feel like I gave a lot of time and energy to SV fic and, after a while, it felt like a wasted effort. The show was over, it ended poorly (for me and, I'd argue, for most), I wish it had been better. I have written a good number of fics with what I felt were more interesting endings. I felt like I'd said all I had to say and explored every plot bunny I could. 
> 
> During the show's run, I had readers. After the show ended, most people moved onto other fandoms, as is perfectly natural. I lost most enthusiasm for it.
> 
> That being said, I'm going to finish what I started and I'm hopeful you don't feel too bad about me having taken this time to build up new enthusiasm for fic... before hopefully graduating.

Chapter 20

 

 

As far as showers went, it was a small affair. Just Dinah, Bart, Martha, Clark, and a cake that was too big for just five people.

“Are we expecting a few more dozen?” Chloe eyed the massive cake with the giant blue bear on it.

“Just who’s here. Bart kept waffling between vanilla and chocolate until he went for both, which I’m fine with,” Clark said, helping her out of her coat before staring hard at her. “But maybe you aren’t. You look a little too surprised. I warned you this was coming.”

“I knew something was up with Dinah. I just wasn’t sure…” She leaned closer. “Clark, I told you before. This isn’t something we should be partying about.”

“And I don’t agree with that,” Clark whispered. “Look, you need supplies and… this is the traditional way to get them,” he smiled, “with cake and stupid party games.” He nodded at his mother, Bart, and Dinah, fooling with an iPod. “They’ve been planning this for a while, you know. They want you to feel… normal.”

 “You say that like it’s possible,” she hissed, then pasted on a smile as Martha moved to her.

 “So we have a few presents,” Martha grinned, “but you don’t get them without a little work.”

 Chloe forced a laugh. “I thought the swollen feet and aching back were enough work.”

 “Nothing that strenuous.” Martha led her to a chair. “We just thought we’d prepare you for all the headaches with some games. Bart’s up first.”

 Bart held up an iPod. “This contains all the classics, songs you will be forced to listen to twenty times a day or more if this kid is anything like… any other kid,” he finished awkwardly.

 Chloe looked around at the others, saw their forced smiles and their refusal to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

 “So you get five seconds of song,” Bart went on brightly. “If you guess the song, you get a present.”

 

“Well, that’s silly,” Dinah scoffed. “Why put all the pressure on Chloe? I mean, she’s going to be getting these presents, anyway.”

 

“Because it’s fun,” Bart hissed. “Why are you always crapping on my best ideas?”

 

“Look, I get the concept, but the gameplay needs work. I think we should all guess and, whoever guesses gets to pick which present she gets, including Chloe…”

 

Martha pointed at Dinah. “I like that. I’m probably going to win if you’ve got any of Clark’s. He tortured me with _Barney_ and  _Schoolhouse Rock_ … I can feel the headache already.”

 

“I liked _The Big Comfy Couch_ ,” Dinah said.

 

“With the creepy clown girl?” Bart shook his head. “Insanity. Fine. Change my game. You’re just lucky I’m not playing because I’d win. Also, Fred Rogers was a living saint and his show is more of an enduring classic than all your shows, so suck it.”

 

“ _Mr. Rogers_?” Dinah shook her head. “That show was way too slow for me. I’d think it’d be glacial for you.”

 

“I found him soothing and dependable.”

 

“You probably needed calming down, knowing you.” Dinah chuckled. “What was your kid crack, Chloe?”

 

“I think I started off with _Sesame Street._ But I graduated to _Reading Rainbow_ pretty quickly,” Chloe said as Clark snorted.

 

“Knew it,” he said, tossing her a smile. “If this kid’s anything like you, I’ll never see him throw a ball.”

 

She smiled back, thinking this was just a little bit nice. It was a bit like that feeling she’d had, arguing with Clark in the cab a few months back. It was the first time she’d thought of this baby as somebody—just a boy with tastes of his own, a love for sports or books or zombie killing video games. It felt like the worst kind of denial, to fool herself that this kid might be like any other, but there were moments when she could let in the idea of this nameless, faceless boy with something like eagerness, like she couldn’t wait to meet him.

 

“I liked _Lambchop_ ,” Martha offered as Clark started humming what sounded like “Conjunction Junction” under his breath. “Why did you start that?” Martha sighed. “It took 20 years to get that song out of my head the first time.”

 

“I liked _Captain Planet_.” They all turned to see Oliver in the doorway, Victor just behind. “Look, we can’t stay long. Just wanted to drop these off.” Oliver pulled a large box from behind him. “I didn’t wrap it or anything. The lady at Lacy’s told me this was the number one stroller this year. I mean, I think it looks like half an egg, but it’s got all those safety ratings and all, so what do I know?”

 

“Thanks,” Chloe said, losing that bit of relaxation she’d almost had. Oliver and Victor’s presence didn’t help, with how tense they seemed, even as Victor pulled a bag in. “It’s a Diaper Genie. I was told it’s a staple by the lady at…uh…”

 

“Lacy’s,” Chloe finished for him. “Thanks. There’s plenty of cake, as you can see. If you want to…”

 

“No, they can’t stay,” Bart cut in. “They obviously have more important…”

 

“Oh, this is just silly.” Martha stood and moved to Victor and Oliver. “Just stay for the party. I know you’ve all been at odds, but maybe this is just the thing to…”

 

“Trust me, Mrs. K, they need to go,” Bart said mutinously, “if any of us are going to have a little fun.”

 

“These two like to ruin that kind of thing,” Dinah added with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Look, we aren’t trying to ruin anything.” Victor gripped Oliver’s shoulder. “We were just dropping some presents.”

 

“Yes. You can all continue with,” Oliver grunted, “whatever this is.”

 

“It’s a God damned baby shower, Ollie!” Dinah moved to push the both of them out the door. “I’m sorry not all of us want to do things your way!”

 

“You mean like dealing with reality?” Oliver hissed to her.

 

“You want Chloe to treat this with nothing but obvious fear and disgust?”

 

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Victor said tiredly, putting his hands up.

 

“Maybe with you three and your gung-ho, party hat attitude,” Oliver sighed, “she needs someone to balance that out.”

 

“Maybe she’s in the room,” Martha said just as Chloe was about to open her mouth and point out that very thing.

 

Oliver turned away from Dinah, giving Martha an apologetic look as he moved to Chloe. “For the record, I wasn’t against you having what you might need. I just thought it would be better if we were practical about it. I just don’t think this is a situation that requires a party.”

 

Chloe had thought the same thing herself, but something about the tension between everyone had her on edge and maybe a little testy. “Well, we _were_ having a nice time,” she said, pushing her cake away.

 

“We still can.” Martha patted her shoulder, then stared from Oliver to Victor. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you two.”

 

Chloe was glad at least someone was as confused as she was.

 

Then Martha went on. “I thought we all agreed that this discussion could wait.”

 

Chloe blinked at her, surprised that Martha-- that everyone but _her_ seemed to be in on this discussion, whatever it was.

 

“For what?” Oliver threw up his hands. “We have to talk over options at some point.”

 

“No. _We_ actually don’t,” Dinah said tightly. “This is _her_ kid and the options are whatever _she_ wants them to be!”

 

“Considering she isn't taking about them or thinking ahead, then _we_ have to!”

 

“Stop talking about her like she’s incapable. We don’t know what she’s decided. Maybe she’s been deciding all on her own. You don’t know! And you don’t _need_ to know because it’s not _your_ business!”

 

“This isn’t just any kid. Things that affect the safety of the world are our business or… Or what the hell are we even doing here?” Oliver finished hotly. “If she isn’t going to face the possibilities, then…”

 

“Oliver, I am warning you for the last time. I am this close to walking if you keep pushing--”

 

“No, he’s right,” Chloe cut in softly, suddenly feeling guilty, tears pricking her eyes. Damned hormones! She didn’t want Dinah to finish that sentence. She hated the idea that her pregnancy was something tearing at Oliver and Dinah’s relationship. Was this what had them at odds all this time? How much damage had it done to them, to this entire team? “I haven’t been thinking about the future. I haven’t been… I just keep going day to day, from fear to hope and…”

 

“There’s room for both, you know,” Martha said, moving to Chloe and shooting Oliver a rather angry look. “This doesn’t have to be all about fear.”

 

Oliver glanced down. “With all due respect, Mrs. Kent, I’m not just fear-mongering, here. I have a plan.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it a plan,” Clark said. “I’d call it a theory. And I’m not going to let you test it out on this baby or anywhere near Chloe.”

 

“It’s all we’ve got,” Victor broke in. “If the odds are that we can…”

 

“No!” Bart stepped between them. “Look, you are not ruining this party! We’ve been planning this all week. I made cake!”

 

“Really good cake,” Clark said, moving to stand beside Bart.

 

“Hey, thanks, Man. I thought the pudding layer was too much at first, but…”

 

“Dear God, Bart, could you focus?” Dinah moved to stand with them. “You might have decided on fear, but we have decided on hope. That’s right. We’re Team Hope.”

 

“Stop acting like I’m the enemy, here.” Oliver took a deep breath. “Look, my plan is all about hope. It’s about survival.”

 

“See, that right there,” Bart began, “not a very hopeful word. Now could you just let us finish our stupid party games? Because we…”

 

“No!”

 

Everyone turned to Chloe as she stood… not quickly or anything. She had to lean on the table and push herself up. And even that didn’t work because she found Clark at her side, pulling her up.

 

“No,” she said a little more quietly as she waved Clark away. “Whatever this was,” she gestured to the presents and cake, “it’s pretty much over now.” She turned to Oliver and Victor, both looking shifty, but defiant. “You said you have some kind of plan?”

 

Victor moved to her, nodding. “Clark’s right, though. It’s not a plan. It’s more of a theory.”

 

“Whatever it is, considering it involves me, I think I deserve to know about it.” She turned away from Clark and to the rest of… _Team Hope_. “What exactly have you all been discussing?”

 

Martha moved to her. “Chloe, please don’t think we’re shutting you out. This is… Well, it’s not something we wanted to upset you with in your condition,” she speared Oliver and Victor with a glance, “especially since we all agreed this could wait another week, at least.”

 

“Since my condition seems to be the crux of the problem, maybe we should have this talk while I still have it,” she sneered, then immediately turned weepy at the look on Martha’s face. “I didn’t mean that.” She sniffled. “I mean, I did. But I didn’t want to be such a bitch about it.”

 

“Oh, Sweetie!” Martha pulled her in. “Of course you weren’t.”

 

Dinah rushed to her as well. “I think you just need to put your feet up. Damn it, Bart, get her some more cake!”

 

“I don’t want cake,” Chloe sobbed, annoyed at her damned hormones ruining her moment of resolve. “I want you all to stop leaving me out.”

 

“Trust me,” Oliver said. “No one is leaving you…”

 

“Give me a break! Are you saying there are no secrets here?”

 

Oliver drew back. “So you figured it out?”

 

“I’d have had to be an idiot not to.”

 

“Look, it was just to keep you near. I figured you needed your own space, but we couldn’t let you just move across town! Just be glad Clark didn’t get his way or you’d be living here.”

 

“Wait a sec…” Chloe narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you talking about?”

 

Oliver stared at her, looking a bit cagey. “Well… What are you talking about?”

 

She was talking about Davis, but it looked like Oliver was talking about something else entirely. And she had an inkling what. “Wasn’t that convenient,” she drawled as it finally sunk in, “me looking for a place in my budget and finding one just next door?”

 

“I think Martha’s right,” Oliver said. “We should talk about this later.”

 

“Don’t bother putting this off. You know I could find out. I’ve been writing my checks to Murphy Holdings, LLC. If I were to look into their parent company, would it be Queen Industries?”

 

“Fine. I bought all the surrounding buildings pretty much the minute we settled in here,” Oliver sank into a chair. “I didn’t like the idea of having no control over who’s near us.”

 

“Including me?”

 

“Especially you, Chloe, especially right now. I know it’s not easy to face, but this kid could come with surprises and none of us wanted you somewhere far away if or when they popped up.”

 

“You could have said that. You could have talked to me.” She turned to Clark, who looked away. “You once told me I knew everything I needed to know. But do I really?”

 

Clark met her eyes reluctantly. “I just wanted you safe. I didn’t want you upset in your…”

 

“Yes, my condition,” Chloe broke in, sneering, “the source of all the hope and fear. You’ve all been planning and plotting and arguing over what to do about poor, pregnant, fragile me.”

 

Dinah gripped her hand. “Chloe, I think you deserve to know everything. I always have, but don’t let them influence you toward their paranoid…”

 

“And what about your little party?” Oliver cut in. “Isn’t that influencing her toward closing her eyes to how dangerous this thing could be?”

 

“And how do you know that?” It was Martha now. “We could have treated Clark that way, Jonathan and I. Clark could have been dangerous, too, in the wrong hands, but he was raised by us and we loved him and we taught him what's right so he would do what’s right. Doesn't this thing—as you call him—deserve that chance?”  
  
“This plan is all about that chance,” Oliver said angrily, “that chance that this could be a kid with a normal life.”

 

 

Chloe suddenly needed to know. If there was a possibility… “You tell me about this plan.”

 

Victor stepped forward. “It’s not exactly…”

 

“This theory, then.”

 

Victor looked to Oliver, who nodded. He took a deep breath and looked around. “As some of you know, we have been collecting black Kryptonite. We don’t have as large a sample as what was used on Davis, but we are working on melting it together and…”

 

“And using it without knowing what it will even do,” Clark said mutinously. “Don’t forget that part.”

 

Oliver glared at him. “You were the one who was ready to use it on Davis and…”

 

“And I didn’t, in the end. I started to have my doubts about it.”

 

“Chloe did use it. And it worked.”

  
“It doesn’t always work cleanly. We got lucky with Davis.”  
  
“That was more than luck. If we have it on hand at the birth…”  
  
“I don’t want it near him,” Clark insisted.  
  
“We are just going to separate the beast part.”  
  
“And what if there is no beast part?” Clark shook his head. “Davis Bloome was created in a lab, not a womb. We don’t know that this will work and I don’t want it near him. Lex was exposed to it years ago and it split him apart like… like Jekyll and Hyde. If he hadn’t been put back together, then…”

 

 

“Then our lives would have been easier,” Oliver finished.

 

“But what about his life?” Clark shook his head. “He’d have lived it as an incomplete person, even if his better half had survived.”

 

“Clark’s right.” They all turned to the doorway as John Jones strode in. “Human and otherwise, we all need to live with balance. This child… He is not necessarily so black and white. There are qualities from both parents in him. To separate what might be termed as good and bad… Every good human quality is in balance with a necessary evil.”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get philosophical, Jones. This isn’t the time.”

 

“This is exactly the time. We’re talking about someone’s existence. Every deadly sin has a virtue to balance it. Balance it and not erase it. You take away his anger, leave him with only trust and patience, and he could end up weak and defenseless. This is not a world for that kind of child.”

 

Martha moved to Jones. “Bad shift?”

 

He patted her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want to know.”

 

“If you need to talk…”

 

“Not tonight. Maybe later.” John moved to Chloe. “It’s a little tense in here.”

 

Bart snorted. “If by a little you mean a lot, then sure.”

 

Jones ignored him, keeping his eyes on Chloe. “I’ve read him before. He was just vague then, instinctual, feeding off only you, reacting to you. He might be close, now, to forming his own ideas, thoughts. I could read him if you just give me the word.”

 

Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted to. Because she knew something no one else did, save Clark. She’d shown strength beyond her abilities, enough to hurt Clark, even as he claimed it didn’t hurt. Maybe Oliver and Victor were right to feel nothing but fear of this child. Then again, didn’t she need to know? Whatever was going on inside her, she had to stop running from it. She placed his hand on her belly. “Tell me what he’s thinking.”

 

John nodded and closed his eyes, then squeezed them shut as if in pain.

 

“What? Tell me!” she cried.

 

“I can’t…” He stumbled back, clutching his head.

 

“John!” She turned to Clark. “This has happened before. It’s always with me.”

 

Jones shook his head. “Not always.”

 

“Almost always,” Chloe breathed, backing away from him as Emil moved in.

 

“What’s going on here?” He looked around the room. “So you decided to have the shower?”

 

“No. Apparently, we decided to have a fight,” Dinah said angrily, “and ruin the shower.”

 

Emil glanced at John. “Is he alright?”

 

“Just a headache,” Jones grunted. “I’ll be okay.”

 

“I wish you’d let me look at you,” Emil sighed, before turning to Chloe. “I… uh… I didn’t actually get you a present yet. I promise I will.”

 

“I’m sure I have plenty,” Chloe said hurriedly. “Could you just look at John?”

 

“I’m fine,” Jones insisted. “This isn’t in your wheelhouse. Victor’s working on it. It doesn’t hurt much. It’s just hard to concentrate.”

 

Chloe gripped Emil’s arm. “It happens around me.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Jones said, waving Emil off and turning to Chloe. “I told you before. It’s happened other times.”

 

“You can all just stop,” Chloe shook her head, “stop trying to gloss everything over and make me feel better. There’s more to this kid. Clark…”

 

Clark moved to her. “Chloe, don’t--”

 

“Okay, just calm down.” Victor stepped in the middle, facing Chloe. “Look, I know we’re all here discussing the risks, but Jones isn’t lying. This has happened a few other times. I’ve been trying to find the source of interference myself, but every time, it seems to be coming from inside him, like some kind of low-frequency buzz. It could be waves from underground power lines or the path of a satellite.”

 

“And it doesn’t hurt,” Jones repeated. “Worse comes to worst, I check in via headset.”

 

“We’re already working on another base,” Victor put in.

 

“It’s not like I need my powers here, anyway.” John gripped her arm comfortingly. “Chloe, there really is no reason to worry.”

 

Chloe stared at him, then nodded, though she didn’t relax much. “Well, maybe not about this.” She turned to Clark. “Oliver and Victor aren’t wrong, you know. This is not just any kid.”

 

“Chloe, please don’t,” Clark said again.

 

“No. I’m sick of keeping everything inside and just blindly hoping for the best. I hurt Clark,” she burst out, “several times now.”

 

“You barely even…”

 

“I pushed him into the wall. I scratched his arm, his back, his…”

 

“She’s exaggerating. She hardly broke skin.” He turned to Victor. “As for the wall, I might have over-corrected, like I said. I mean, she pushed, but that doesn’t mean…”

 

“There was another time, my eyes,” Chloe swiped at those eyes now, annoyed to find her damned hormones making her leak again, “they glowed red like… Well, they didn’t glow. They filled just like Davis’ eyes when…”

 

“You weren’t going to tell us any of this?” Oliver gaped at Chloe.

 

“It was my idea,” Clark said, stepping in front of Chloe. “She wanted to talk to Emil, but I wouldn’t let her.”

 

Oliver pointed at Clark. “Keeping these kind of secrets is not what’s best for the team.”

 

“That’s pretty rich coming from you,” Chloe said, drying up. “But I guess keeping secrets from me is fine.”

 

“I’m on your side, Chloe,” Oliver insisted. “Nothing has been kept from you that you needed to know.”

 

“That’s pretty debatable,” Dinah snorted.

 

“Dinah!”

 

“No. She's right.” Dinah rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she’ll shatter into a million pieces. I’ve been saying all along that she needs to know.”

 

“While you’re sitting here organizing parties to distract her from what she needs to face?” Oliver sneered. “Now, more than ever, we need to consider the options. If she hurt Clark, then whatever is inside her…”

 

“But it doesn’t mean anything,” Clark said hotly. “You know, I have abilities, too, but I learned to contain them and control them. I’m going to be there to teach him, which is a hell of a lot more than I had, finding my way!”

 

“But there wouldn’t be anything to contain if we can separate the man from the beast,” Oliver countered.

 

Emil lifted a hand. “Now, wait a minute. We’ve discussed the Black K, but I didn’t think you two were seriously considering it as a viable option. We don’t know the effects.”

 

“Thank God someone is speaking sense,” Clark barked. “He deserves to grow up as he is, a chance to decide for himself. And that’s if he’s even dangerous at all!”

 

“Is this suddenly your decision alone?” Oliver folded his arms and held his ground. “Last I checked, this was a team.”

 

“If this is a team decision,” Clark sneered, “then it’s a landslide against you and Victor.”

 

Dinah raised her hand. “No, it’s not.”

 

Oliver turned to her, sighing. “Finally. Thank you, Dinah. I knew you’d…”

 

“No. Both of you can shut up. This is not a team decision or being put to any kind of vote. There is only one vote in this and that vote is Chloe’s.” She turned to Chloe, waiting. “And I support you in whatever it is,” she prodded.

 

“No one is discounting Chloe’s vote,” Victor said tiredly. “Hell, no one’s even taking a vote right now. We’re just laying it out, options.” He turned to Chloe as well. “And it is your decision.”

 

Everyone was staring at her now. For what seemed like an hour.

 

Martha broke the silence first. “What do _you_ want, Chloe?”

 

Chloe stared at all of them, then shook her head. “I want to go home and go to sleep.” She turned away, then just as quickly turned back. “Before I do that, I want to know one more thing. And I want you all to think carefully before you answer.”

 

There was silence, waiting.

 

“What’s on the fourth floor?”

 

They all looked away. Only Clark held her stare, but he wasn’t answering.

 

“The fact is,” she went on, “there’s another person who might deserve a vote in all of this. Now, I told everything. What about all of you?”

 

There was still silence.

 

“Are you trying to think of some excuse? Do you think I haven’t figured it out?”

 

Dinah sighed. “We have Davis. For the record, I thought you should know from the start.”

 

“Not enough to tell me, apparently.”

 

Dinah nodded sadly and sank back toward Martha, who rubbed her arm and glanced apologetically at Chloe.

 

“We were only keeping him to be sure he was rehabilitated.” Victor, now. “I know he had extenuating circumstances, but his methods of restraining the beast weren’t something we agreed with. Believe me, turning him over to the law would have meant prison and no hope of release or rehab… or worse.”

 

“Meaning?” Chloe prodded.

 

“I just think, after certain events,” Oliver clarified, “he might have been turned over to some agency or other. I heard the government is funding tests on meta-humans and whatever company they're using... Well, their testing practices might be less than humane. Things are pretty hush-hush and even my best guys can’t get me intel, but… Look, he’s better off with us. He’s been seeing a therapist.”

 

“You mean Sarah,” she corrected.

 

“That’s technically between him and her, but yes.”

 

Bart piped up. “And I’ve been giving him good meals and DVRing stuff for him and… Look, he’s fine.”

 

“I didn’t think he wasn’t, really.” She knew for a fact he was… compared to what he could be. She didn’t tell them about the radio, wanting just one thing she could keep from them. “None of that explains why this was kept from me. Was it all just about protecting poor, fragile, pregnant me or was there more?”

 

“Chloe, what are you asking?”

 

“I don’t know anymore,” she cried, swiping angrily at her constantly-leaking eyes. “I mean, why are you even bothering with him when I’m the real danger?”

 

“We don’t think you’re dangerous,” Bart said. “We trust you.” He looked around. “Come on, you guys, this is no reason to let cake go to waste. Complicated pregnancy? Sure. There’s fear, there’s hope. I personally think there’s more hope than fear and that all this drama can wait. Chloe, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Don’t let this ruin everything.”

 

“Everything’s been ruined from the start.”

 

 

“Look, this is just a disagreement. We’ll work it out. It’s your decision no matter what and you have a whole month to decide.” He moved to Chloe. “You haven’t even opened one present.”

 

“I’m not in the mood.” Chloe pulled away.

 

Bart tugged at her arm. “Look, we won’t even make you play games. Just straight up presents and cake from here on out.”

 

“Bart, I don’t want to,” she said, getting more agitated.

 

He ignored her protests and pulled her to the pile of boxes and bags. “Oliver and Victor might have spoiled theirs, but there are a few surprises.”

 

“Bart, stop!”

 

“Some are just for Mama.”

 

“Just let me go!”

 

She swore, swore at the time, that she just pulled her arm away. But that’s not how it ended up. Bart landed across the room, denting the aluminum kitchen window and slumping to the floor in a heap.

 

And she ran.

 

********************

 

“Chloe? Bart’s fine. He wanted me to tell you that. Actually, he wanted me to tell you he’s doing elevator bits, but…”

 

She turned away from her locked bedroom door, but Dinah’s voice carried through it.

 

“He wrapped you up most of the cake. Wouldn’t let anyone else touch it till he had your portion. He doesn’t blame you. We know you didn’t mean it. Clark was explaining it to us and we think you just felt threatened even if…”

 

She put her pillow over her head and let the voice muffle until there was silence, before waking up a little choked and pulling the pillow away while another voice came through her door.

 

“…and we understand the position you’re in is difficult.” It was Oliver now. “I don’t want you to feel pressured in any direction. Like Bart said, there’s more than a month left. I just think you should consider the options before… before things get down to the wire. That’s all.”

 

She pulled the covers higher and waited for him to leave. He eventually did. She drifted off a little, then, sinking into that recurring dream. It hadn’t been around for some time now, but it flashed through her mind now with her fitful snatches of sleep, distorted now, but with the details still there. _Running from Clark. Faceless baby. Running from Clark. Clark calling her name…_

 

“Chloe?”

 

He was calling her name. She sat up and stared at the door as the door knob rattled. She knew he could turn it and break the lock if he chose. She knew he wouldn’t, though. And he didn’t.

 

“It doesn’t mean anything, not about you and not about this baby. You got upset and overreacted. Everything’s fine. Nothing has changed.”

 

She stood and moved to the door, ready to open it and ask Clark who he was trying to fool here?

 

“Even Oliver and Victor ag… Well, they mostly agree this doesn’t need to be decided on right this second. No one is afraid of you. No one thinks any less of…”

 

She placed her hand on the door and he stopped, almost as if he could see her there. He could, she realized, staring at the door and knowing he was staring right through to her.

 

She imagined his eyes, steady and pleading. “Chloe, Bart was right. There’s way more hope than fear.”

 

She backed away, back to bed, huddled back under the covers. “Just go, Clark,” she whispered, knowing he would hear.

 

“I just want you to know…”

 

“I’ve heard it all,” she said softly. “Everything’s perfect, apparently.”

 

“I never said… Chloe, I just want you to feel…”

 

“What I feel?!” She sat up now, shouting at the door. “Between every damned one of you, you control what I eat, where I live, and what I know. Maybe I can have one night to decide what I feel!”

 

There was silence on the other side, then shuffling.

 

Everyone else had decided what they feel. Maybe she deserved to figure it out for herself. It was her vote, as Dinah said. Unless and until this kid was eighteen, her vote was the only vote.

 

  
_God!_ Even that made her feel like weeping, imagining this faceless boy, packing for college. Weeping because she wasn’t even sure if he could have that. Would he be allowed something like college? High school? Grade school? Maybe he would be locked in that fourth floor, like Davis… or with Davis.

 

Then again, maybe he should be locked up. She could hear the beeping now.

 

Of course, that was actual beeping… coming from her nightstand. She pulled out the radio and stared at it for a moment before turning the volume up.

 

_“…pick up. Come on, Chloe.”_

 

She didn’t.

 

_“I know something’s going on. I heard commotion downstairs.”_

 

She still didn’t.

 

_“Bart brought up cake, but he wouldn’t answer my questions… or look at me. Just tell me what’s going on.”_

 

She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She’d told him enough. Chances were that he’d be on the same team as Oliver and Victor. Team Fear. Then again, was that any better than Team Hope?

 

She still didn’t know what team she was on, which was pathetic, considering this was her child. Then again, it wasn’t _just_ her child. She stared at the radio, almost hit the button before his voice came through.

 

  
_“Don’t make me come down there,”_ she heard with a slight nervous laugh. _“Chloe, I know you’re there.”_

 

She hit it, then. “They know. I told them everything," she said tiredly. "Not about the radios, obviously, or we wouldn't be talking, but everything else.”

 

_“And?”_

 

“I hurt Bart.”

 

_“He did look like he was limping a little.”_

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

_“I know you didn’t. It’s what It does. It lashes out.”_

 

“Everyone keeps knocking on my door, trying to make me feel better and… I can’t do it. Then again, there’s this fail-safe idea they have and I can’t do that, either.”

 

_“What’s the idea?”_

 

“It’s… It’s just too complicated to explain.”

 

_“Then maybe you should explain on the way.”_

 

“The way where?”

 

“Anywhere else.”

 

She turned. That hadn’t come from the radio. It had come from behind her bedroom door. She tore it open to find Davis there, his face grim.

 

“How did you get out?”

 

“Never mind that. We’re leaving,” he said bluntly.

 

She took a deep breath and nodded. She wasn’t even surprised. And she wasn’t going to argue. She knew it would come down to this, in the end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that went downhill quickly. :(


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, trying to hurtle this fic toward the finish with a combination of scribbled notes and determination.

**Chapter 21**

 

“I don’t know what to take,” Chloe said, staring at an empty bag.

“How about a change of clothes?” Davis suggested, pacing behind her. “You can’t risk much more and we don’t have much time.”

“I just… I knew this was coming on some level.” She turned to him, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling those ever-present tears trying to leak out. Maybe that recurring dream wasn't just a regurgitation of her current mental state, but a warning, an instruction. “I guess I just thought I’d have more time to…”

“Chloe, there is no time,” he said gently, taking her by the shoulders. “Leaving right now is our best chance. The less you take, the better.”

She stared at him, trying to dry up. “I still don’t understand. How did you get out?”

“I have a plan,” Davis said steadily. “I’ve been ready, just in case it came down to this."

"That doesn't answer my..."

"Don’t you want a chance at a normal life?” he broke in.

Chloe looked around her little place, that blue nook with the white shelves where his crib and changing table might have been. This place had been her idea of a normal life, in a way, a little hideaway for the two of them, but safely tucked in next door to her own personal band of heroes. It didn’t seem that way now, with this place being owned by Oliver and almost orchestrated to draw her in. Then again, as much as she was angry at how much she’d been manipulated up till now, she also understood it. They wanted to be sure she was safe, and the world safe from what was inside her.

She had been pretty much the number one item on their agenda. This baby was fought over, feared or hoped for, everyone falling on one side. Did she want to stay here as this source of contention for people who should be focused on more than this?

She still didn’t know where she fell. Did she fear him or love him? She hadn’t even seen his face, but she really needed to decide soon as she’d be the one who he'd be depending on. She had to be something solid for him. And she couldn’t do that with all this distraction, these well meaning heroes, all looking at him with either fear or hope.

No kid could have a normal life under that kind of scrutiny.

She stared at Davis, coming back to his question. _Don’t you want a chance at a normal life?_ She had to choose now. She stared down at her hand, resting on her belly, thought of the wonder she felt the first time he kicked. Maybe everything else was just a distraction from that. Maybe she'd chosen hope before she even knew it.

“A normal life.” She nodded, sniffling. “I think he deserves that.”

Davis let go, staring at her as he backed away. “Well, him… you… This is your chance.”

She swiped at her eyes. “So change of clothes for me. But what about him? There are all these shower gifts next door and…”

“And we don’t have a shot at getting those without them realizing,” Davis cut in quickly. “We’ll get whatever… whatever’s needed.” He turned to her again. “There is really nothing you need to take with you. It’s better if you don’t so they don’t know you’ve gone right away, so...”  
  
“So they can’t find us,” she finished miserably, bundling up her phone and charger.

He nodded and stilled her hand. “Even your phone… they can track it.”

She placed it down, staring at the cord as she dropped it on her nightstand. “I’m running away from everyone I know. Again.”

“Chloe, this is our responsibility. We need to take care of it.”

“Him,” she corrected, cradling her stomach. She’d had some pronoun issues for some time now, but she was deciding now. What was she leaving for if it wasn’t for a him, the chance of him having something close to a normal life, protecting him from the world even as she protected the world from what he might become? She packed one change, locked up, and followed Davis into the night again.

**********

He stopped at an all-night gas station, even though they had a nearly full tank, said they needed coffee for the road ahead.

“I got you a half-caff,” he said, holding one out as he took the wheel again. “I figured you could have a little, in case you need to drive.”

“I hope I remember how,” she said as she took it. “It’s been all cabs and walks for a while now. Still, I don’t get why we had time for this but not ATMs. I told you, I have money if we can hit a few before we’re out of state…”

“I just don’t think we should leave a trail, if your friends are as good at tracking as you say.”

“You might have a point.” Victor could get every stop in less than a minute and she didn’t have the means to erase her tracks, considering she’d taken nothing but a change of clothes.. “Still, we’ll need money.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He nodded to her coffee. “Drink up. Like I said, I might need you to take the wheel. We have a good 200 miles to go before we can afford to stop.”

She took a long sip. It was much sweeter than she usually took it, and with a funny taste. She wondered if he loaded it with Equal or Splenda or some other awful thing, but it was still coffee, even at half-caff, and she needed it. “Are you sure you have enough gas money to get us to New Jersey?”

“I’m sure.”

“And what’s in New Jersey?”

“A house.”

“But what kind of house? A row home? A duplex? Urban or suburban?” She took another sip and sat back, trying to arrange the seat belt over her damned stomach, and trying to imagine something for this kid, something safe. Because what was she leaving for, again, if not something safe?

“It’s rural," he finally said. "It’s a farm house. Lots of space.”

She blinked rapidly, feeling one of her silly cries coming on again. “A farm house?” Like Clark’s? Like the very one he’d been trying to convince her to move into all this time? What a sick twist, for her to end up on a farm without him, with Davis. Then again, Davis was the father of this child. Shouldn’t he be the one raising it with her? Whatever Clark wanted with his little gift bag and toys, this child could be dangerous to him. Even if there was little between her and Davis, these days, this kid was their responsibility,

“Where I’m taking you… it’s away from everything and everyone. It’s the perfect solution.”

She took another long gulp, trying to gulp down her tears with it, just focus on what was ahead. Yet, she still couldn’t figure one thing out. “How did you arrange all this?”

“I do have some connections on the outside.” He chuckled weakly. “As a reporter, you might understand that I can’t reveal my sources.”

“I’m not asking who. I’m asking how.” She looked around the van they were in right now, even as her head swam. Maybe she was just tired, but she swore the interior lights were leaving trails as she turned her head to the window. “The vehicle, the place, the gas money?”

“Like I said, I’ve been prepared for months.”

“No, you didn’t. You never said months. You only found out about him a month ago.” She narrowed her eyes at him as he stared resolutely ahead. “Davis,” she prodded.

“Chloe, what does it matter when I found out?”

“It didn’t seem like you knew when I found you up there. Did someone tell you?”

He nodded, eyes on the road.

“Why did you pretend not to know?”

He took a deep breath. “I never told you how it felt,” he said, “when the beast took over. I know I described it as blacking out, but it was more than that. First it rips its way to the surface and you feel it in your organs before it starts poking out of your skin. When I blacked out, it was usually from the pain. No one should feel pain like that.”

She stared at him, even as he sort of blurred in the lights of the passing cars. “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice sounded strange, far away and slow. She shook her head and the lights on the dash made trails with every move.

“No one should live like that. It's not a life,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice also taking on that deep, slow cadence.

She stared down at her coffee cup, then let it drop to the floor. “What did you do to me?” Of course, she knew what he must have done, why he just had to stop and make her a coffee that was too damned sweet. She just couldn’t figure out why, not when she had gone with him willingly. "What are you doing, Davis?"

“I’m making things right,” he said.

They moved off the exit. From her past experience, which wasn’t much more than a long-ago road trip with Lana to New York, they should be on the 70 overnight and then some before New Jersey.

“There is no farm in New Jersey,” she slurred. It wasn't even a question by now. She was annoyed it had taken her this long to catch on. Then again, she hadn’t been all there, even before he drugged her coffee, so frightened and frantic to do something, anything, and tonight. So stupid. She grappled for the door handle weakly. It was locked. Just as well. She wasn’t about to tumble out of a moving van, anyway. Her head lolled against the window as the exit signs blurred into airport signs. “Where are you taking me?”

“To fix it. To free you.”

“What about him?”

“There is no him. Only it. And it needs to be destroyed.” The blackness descended and his voice faded in and out. “...no other way...better off, Chloe… Don’t worry… You’ll see...”

**************

She didn’t like it. She kept telling herself she didn’t have to. It wasn’t her concern. She could just keep going on. He'd agreed to let her run her end of Luthorcorp's holdings as she saw fit, be her brother and not her boss. And she agreed that she didn't need to know what his end consisted of. She was his sister, not his keeper.

Things between them had settled into something resembling a routine. He'd been in Metropolis for a week now. They had dinner together most nights, just talking about all the things they didn't know before now, things they had in common: silly things like how they both hated blueberries and black olives, and less silly things like how they both spent their childhoods in differing states of neglect and the vague feeling their parents despised them for one reason or another. He said they were making up for lost time, that they could, at some point, have the kind of sibling relationship approaching normal. She doubted that.

"It's still a secret, you know. No one knows I'm a Luthor and no one knows you're alive."

"It's what we have," he'd said. "It could be worse."

"It could also be better. Why not come back to life, let people know who I am, just be done with all this..."

"The public eye was never good to me, anyway. I have more freedom this way, less distraction."

His phone rang, then -- the one she didn’t have the number to. He didn’t say how long he’d be gone as he packed, but it was apparently “All according to plan. Just a little earlier than expected.”

That was fine by her. She didn’t want to know.

“As unsavory as all this seems to you, this is actually in her best interest,” he’d said.

And maybe that was true or it would be, in the end. It wasn’t as if she could even call herself a friend to Chloe Sullivan. Still, there had always been an odd sort of respect between them, though. It felt like a violation of that respect, being a part, however small, of deciding for a grown woman whether she was allowed to have custody of her own child.

Of course, maybe she wanted it out of her hands. As much as Chloe played her cards close at work, Tess had been watching, and she never accepted all the congratulations and baby questions with anything but brief, perfunctory answers. Hell, some of the girls had felt Chloe out about a work shower and she’d outright refused, according to Karen. Maybe she wanted her freedom.

“She will be protected, in the end, as will the rest of us. If all goes well, she’ll have her future and her freedom. Save your pity for me. I’m the one who has all the work ahead.” He'd smiled, then, as if there was room for that sort of thing.

She did have some pity for him, for what he'd chosen. It was frustrating to witness, his need to control everything. It wasn’t as if he even enjoyed it. It had only made him progressively more miserable, and her by extension. So why was she letting this go on?

At first, she’d been on the verge of leaving. Now she was too afraid to leave Lex to his own devices, leave him with no one to question his decisions. She was on the verge of something, here, edgy and restless, unable to sit still and watch this unfold from her little fortress of plausible deniability.

He kept going on about Clark and his team taking on more than they can handle. She had to ask him --  what made him so uniquely qualified? According to Lex, they have telepaths and speed freaks and androids and … Hell, she probably still don’t know all of what Clark could do.

“They can’t do what needs to be done. They can’t make the hard decisions. I can. That, as you put it, is what makes me so uniquely qualified.”

It wasn’t comforting. She gave up on sleep and ended up at The Planet at four o’clock on a Sunday morning. Granted, she was usually there a bit early on Sunday, not trusting that those rubes downstairs wouldn’t print the Sunday paper half-upside-down, but nothing like this. The coffee cart guy wasn’t even here yet. There was only Clark and… Clark?

She stepped off the elevator, trying to figure out how to even speak to him now. Should she play it casual? Joke about how he was not getting overtime? Because he really couldn’t know that she suspected what had him here, rifling through Chloe’s nearly empty desk.

In the end, she just asked. “What are you doing?”

He startled, which was surprising, considering she knew of his enhanced hearing. Hadn’t he heard her coming? Or was he just that distracted?

“I’m just… I’m picking up a few things for Chloe,” he finished awkwardly.

She had to adjust her assessment. He wasn’t just distracted. He was distraught, nearly frantic as he pulled out her drawers, logged onto her computer.

“Are you okay?” she found herself asking.

“I will be,” he said, turning to her. “Look, I’ll be out of your hair in a second. I just… I need to know…”

He didn’t finish, but she knew. She knew what he needed to know and, even though she didn’t have it to give, considering her plausible deniability, she had a shot at getting it. Because he _wasn’t_ okay and he wouldn’t be if he didn’t find her before… God, she didn’t even know what was going to happen. But how could it be good if she felt this terrible imagining it?

She knew now, what she was on the verge of. It wasn’t leaving. If she were honest with herself, something she was trying lately since no one else would be, she didn’t want to leave this city and this work. It was the closest she’d felt to belonging, thriving, making something of herself. She also didn’t want to destroy Lex. He was her only family, at least that she knew personally. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she also didn’t want him to destroy Choe and, by extension, whatever it was about Clark that made him that ridiculously bright-eyed hero. They didn’t deserve to be controlled.

It was the same instinct that had her trying to save the environment in a labcoat. The same instinct that had her getting between what she thought was her mom and dad when he’d had a few. She’d never wanted to see anyone hurt, not really, not if she could stop it. How did the lines get so blurred these last years? Was this who she'd become? How did she let herself get to the point of standing by and letting this kind of thing happen?

“I don’t know where she is,” she said quickly before she could stop herself, “but I have a good chance of finding out.”

Clark turned to her, eyes glazed and barely listening. “What?”

“Where she is,” Tess repeated.

Clark seemed to collect himself. “If you mean, Chloe, where she is is on maternity leave.” He stared at the desk, pushed the drawers closed, then stood. “I’m not sure if I’ll be in tomorrow. You might have to find someone to cover…”

“Damn it, Clark!” She gripped his silly blue jacket and pulled him toward her office. He let her, almost limp and defeated, but only up to a point before he jerked them both a stop.

“Tess, I don’t have time to play whatever game you’re…”

“Here’s the game --  she’s missing and I’m your best shot at finding her. You take it or leave it.”

He stared at her from the doorway, eyes narrowed. “Cameras?”

“The feed’s off. I usually turn it on myself, but I didn’t think there’d be a need today.”

“You say you can find out? How would that be?” Clark stepped in. “Are you talking to him?”

“You know about him? I thought no one…”

“Where did he take her?”

“You have to understand. I didn’t want any of this, but then he told me everything and…”

“Did he tell you where he took her?” Clark cut in, angrily. “Because that’s all I need to know.”

“I don’t know for sure. When he’s away, he usually blocks his number. But I can’t keep letting him…”

“Away? I don’t get it.” Clark shook his head. “We did find a charger in his quarters, but how would he get a cell?”

“Quarters? You’ve been in the penthouse?”

“I wouldn’t call it a penthouse. So you’ve known where he is all this time? You _have_ been playing games. Damn it, we were trying to do the right thing, even for him!”

“You, of all people, should know how it is dealing with him. He makes everything sound so reasonable, but then you step back and you realize how insane it is. But what can you do? He has all the control, he always does.”

“Damn it, Tess, there’s no time to argue. What did Davis tell you?”

“Davis? He didn’t tell me anything.”

“He’s gone and so is she and, this time, I know it can’t be her choice. It just can’t. Not after... “ He moved to her, taking her by the shoulders. “You need to tell me what you know about Davis.”

“I don’t know anything about Davis. I… I know you had him, but that’s about it.”

“Another game?” He released her. “Was this all a trick to make me spill...”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said impatiently. “But I might have some idea what Davis is doing, considering who he’s mixed up with. _He_ left last night, too.”

“Who?”

She moved to her desk. “Sit down, Clark.”

“There’s no time to…”

“Well, make time. We’re not going to get anywhere unless we do the one thing we’ve been avoiding since we met.” She sat down and rubbed at her temples. “We’re going to be honest with each other.”

****************

She saw light, even behind her eyelids. At first, she cringed away from it, then she remembered the van and the coffee. Wherever she was, she had to wake up, had to get moving, had to get out. She started moving even as she struggled to open her eyes and heard a loud, piercing beep, repeating itself even as she stilled and flopped back on the… bed.

She was on a bed, there was beeping, and something was pinching her wrist. She opened her eyes with some effort and closed them immediately at the harsh glow, but she knew the antiseptic smell well enough from her life up till now and the feel of the scratchy linens beneath her. It was comforting, considering what she thought was happening.

She heard a door creak. “Chloe?”

She knew that voice, too. “Make the beeping stop,” she groaned.

“I’m sorry. You must have pulled at your I.V. Try not to move.”

“Don’t want to,” she breathed, then cracked an eye as Emil came into focus, thankfully blocking the light. “I can pretty much promise you never to go anywhere again.”

He leaned over her, and light assaulted her again. “No, keep your eyes open,” he said as she cringed away. “Pupils still dilated,” he said dully.

“I was drugged,” she said, forcing herself to hold still “He put something in my coffee.”

“A little too much of something,” he said with a frown as he put the light away, finally.

The light of the room seemed less harsh now and she kept her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. But it wasn’t a real ceiling. There was darkness beyond the fluorescent light, what looked like metal beams high above instead of the plain white of Met Gen or the 80s popcorn ceilings of Smallville Medical Center. “What hospital are we in?” She started to sit up, but he gently pressed her back.

“Try to relax,” he said softly. “We need to check his movement.”

She took several deep breaths before she spoke again as she felt him moving her blankets. “I know everyone’s probably angry. I just thought… I mean, I wasn’t thinking. I was panicking. I didn’t even stop to think. I must have felt like...  at least it was me _doing_ something,” she said blearily, “even it was the wrong thing.”

“Could you move your arms, please?”

She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her belly with both hands, but she removed them now as he pulled up her gown, relaxed at his presence and the familiar squish of the gel, the light click and whirr of the ultrasound machine. “I feel so stupid right now, leaving everyone and everything like this again.”

“Everything looks okay. There doesn’t seem to be any distress and he’s moving normally.”

She opened her eyes, staring at him and the screen. “I thought you’d be angry with me. I’m sure they are, aren’t they?”

“You’re just a little dehydrated, but that’s normal for what you were given.”

“Aren’t they?” she repeated, feeling uneasy now. She started to sit up, but he pressed her down again.

“Chloe,” he wiped off the gel and pulled her gown back down. “You need to relax. Just take deep breaths with me.”

“I will if you stop avoiding me.” She looked around, finally adjusting to the light. The room wasn’t a room, more like part of a series of standing structures in something bigger. “This isn’t a hospital.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s technically a flight hangar, but we have all the equipment we need here.”

“Did Oliver set up a new…” She trailed off as she stared at him, call it pregnancy brain or the lingering effect of the drugs, but she was once again too damned slow to catch on.. “No. He’s not here. Neither are the rest of them. I’m such an idiot. Here I am, thinking I was rescued, but this was where he was taking me all along.”

“If it helps, just so you stop beating yourself up, this was always going to happen.” He smiled rather sadly. “It was better that you left voluntarily, obviously, so they have less of a reason to suspect anything.”

“They will suspect something, you know. They will find me, even... wherever this is.” _Or he will._

“Do you really want to be found? Isn't this for the best, for everyone?”

She wasn’t going to answer that, not until she got some answers of her own. “You played it so well. No one suspected. How could anyone? So helpful, so nice,” she hissed, “so devious.”

“You seem to be under some mistaken idea that I mean you harm. Nothing could be further from the truth, believe me.” His eyes were steady on hers. She could almost believe him, or at least believe that he believed what he was saying.

“I remember I was so impressed,” she went on, getting angrier now, “when Oliver told me you volunteered your time. But that’s not true, is it? You’ve been on the clock all this time, just not for Oliver. For who?”

He sighed and stared down at her stomach. “Like I said before, it’s best you don’t upset yourself.”

“For who?” she demanded.

“This didn’t necessarily have to happen,” he said, still not answering her. “I wanted you to carry to term in a familiar environment with familiar faces. Even after the birth, I was content to monitor the situation as your physician and, later, his. As long as your pregnancy seemed to be progressing normally, then… Well, things are different now. After what you said and did, we had to act.”

She felt a frisson of shame, remembering Bart and how she pushed him away, remembering those moments with Clark. It hadn’t come out until tonight… or was it last night? She couldn’t tell in this place. She looked around, saw the blacked out windows high up on the walls. “You couldn’t afford to rent out something like this,” she said, still refusing to play along. “And Davis couldn’t have run this show from the fourth floor. Who are you working for? Is it the government?”

“Chloe, you need to understand my position.”

“I can’t if you won’t tell me what it is or who it’s under,” she sneered.

“You have been displaying traits associated with the beast. Did you really want to be there, putting everyone around you in danger?”

She swiped at her eyes, annoyed to find them leaking. “You know, I might have been open to hearing this before I’d been coerced, drugged, and abducted.”

He took a chair, avoiding her eyes. “And I might have discussed this with you if you’d been more transparent about what you’d been experiencing.”

She tried to dry up, tried to hold onto her anger even as the guilt kept forcing its way in. “Don’t try to put this on me. You lied to all of us. How the hell did you hide this? For God’s sake, we’ve got a mind reader and you still…” She stopped, the anger taking over again. “John only had a headache when you were in the building. That pen. That lucky pen of yours. What was it, really?”

“Just some simple interference.”

“Some very specific interference. You let John go on in pain and let me believe I was causing it.”

“It wasn’t anything harmful,” he repeated. “I have a great deal of respect for Jones and all he can do. I just don’t want him using it on me.”

“How did you do it?”

Emil stood. “It’s obvious you’re upset. If you can get some rest…”

“No. You won’t tell me who you’re working for, then at least tell me _that_. In my line of work, answers are about the only that make me feel relaxed.”

He took his chair again with a sort of resigned sigh. “I operated on him when he was injured. He was powerless, but I knew that might not always be the case."

"So you've been deceiving us almost since the start?"

"I've been keeping an eye on things."  
  
She stared out the windows into the hangar. There were men and women milling around, now that she looked, some in lab coats, some in jumpsuits. “It’s the government, isn’t it? This looks all too official.”

“I was chosen to spearhead the research due to my qualifications and connections.”

“You mean your connections to the people you were lying to all this time?”

“Chloe, I wish you would trust me. I have fulfilled my duties to the team time and again. I am not hurting anyone. If anything, my connection to this project has protected them from further interference. But they can’t be allowed to play with things beyond their knowledge. Black kryptonite…”

“They weren’t playing with anything,” she cut in, feeling the need to defend them. “Oliver… I mean, he only talked about it. It didn’t… It didn’t mean he was going to…”

“Black Kryptonite, the Orb,” Emil broke in, “These are alien technologies that shouldn't be in the hands of…”

“They are Kryptonian technologies. And Clark is...”

“Clark is none too eager to study his heritage, as you might know best. These things are better in the hands of people with the will and means to explore them.”

He made it sound almost logical.

“Any experiments with these substances should be kept to controlled circumstances. Even with him,” he moved a hand to her belly and she batted it away. “Chloe, there would be tests before anything was attempted, many tests with his blood before...”

“He hasn’t even been born and you’re already talking about bleeding him like a lab rat?”

“That isn’t what I…”

“You remind me of someone, you know. I knew a guy who thought he should have control over everything because of some mistaken idea that his mind is superior or something.”

“Chloe, stop fighting me and listen! I’m not the one in charge,” he said, standing and toppling his chair. “But I am the one who’s been intervening on your behalf. Do you think this has been easy for me? He wanted to take you the minute he found out what you might be carrying.”

“Who?”

“I held things off for you, for the possibility that this child would be… well, just another child. Between your sudden abilities and the team discussing drastic options, I knew you needed to be taken to a controlled environment sooner rather than later.”

She stared at him. “That doesn’t make me feel better, you know. This ends the same way. You’re just going to take him and…”

“No. I’m going to give you options. Clear ones. Believe me when I say that I am the only one who thinks you deserve to decide.”

She stared out the windows at the passing lab coats. “Where’s Davis?”

“I told him to give you space for now.”

“Well, did you give him these options?”

Emil sighed. “Davis made it clear he only has one opinion on this child, obviously colored by his traumatic experiences.”

“Yeah. I think I know where Davis stands.” Even with all the fear and the doubt associated with this child, she’d never really been able to imagine destroying him. She hadn’t even met him yet. “Do you agree with him? Is that the reason for this controlled environment? A safe place to snuff him out?” She swiped at her eyes angrily, hating that it was all she could do -- just lay here and cry and argue pathetically.

“I don’t agree with that. Even with your complications, he has been developing in a way that is completely natural. These changes in you could be more about protecting him than his being truly dangerous. I'm open to the idea of waiting and seeing. If he is raised safely, without incident, he could spend years in a state that’s… well, almost normal.”

She sniffled, barely daring to hope. “Am I supposed to believe you’ll let him have a life that’s anything close to normal?”

“You’re supposed to know your options.”

“Unless one of them is letting me decide what I damned well want, then I don’t care.”

“There are two ways out of this. And I respect you enough to let you decide which one you take.”

“The fact that you can even use words like respect is…”

“He may need you in his infancy,” Emil went on over her. “If you decide to raise him, you’ll be provided for. If you want to write, you’ll have the time and resources and connections, if not your own name. If you want to do nothing but see to his care, your every need will be taken care of, still. You’ll be placed and provided with a new identity.”

“With you and your team somewhere near, I presume.”

He nodded. “Your other option is to have it taken out of your hands.”

Her hands moved to her belly before she could stop them. “And what does that mean?”

“You will wake up somewhere safe, somewhere you can be found, but with no memory of the last forty-eight hours.”

“And no baby,” she supplied dully.

“You will be delivered of the child and back to your life and friends.”

“You’d just let me leave?”

“Your friends will assume Davis abducted you and then left with the child.”

“But that won’t be the case,” she supplied. “What will happen to him?”

‘Davis will be provided with a new…”

“My son, Emil,” she clarified, losing all patience with his deflections. “What will happen to him?”

“He will be cared for.”

“By who?”

“By people willing to comply with his care as I see fit.”

“And if I tried to find him…”

“There’s always the possibility that you won’t look, that you’d take your name, the life you have, your freedom and your career, if that’s what you want. If you want a say in how he’s raised, then you know what you need to choose. I want you to understand that I'm not threatening you. I am giving you two very reasonable, viable choices.”

“My child or my freedom? How is that a reasonable choice?”

“If you were to take the first option, which I have been advocating for, it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be free. You’ll be relocated and given a new name. You will be near a facility and able to raise this child in a way that’s nearly normal. But we don't know how this child's abilities will manifest. He needs to be near someone to…”

“Control him?” she cut in. “Experiment on him?”

“We'll only take blood samples occasionally, only other tests if absolutely necessary.” Emil shrugged and gave her a slight smile. “You can tell him it's just a visit to the doctor.”

Suddenly, she imagined herself, looking down at some trusting little face and lying baldly, lying so often that it got easy. It didn’t seem like something she could do. Then again, could she imagine waking up in some unnamed location and picking up her life as if there had been no baby? She’d search for him and she’d either end up finding him and being taken out of the equation or not finding him at all, spending her life wondering how he was, who he was, if he was suffering.

“You don’t have to decide today. We have time if you just keep resting, keep calm. But I feel strongly that you should be the one to choose.”

She stared at Emil, at the almost earnest look on his face. “You say that like you’re doing me a favor, like this is fair. If this was fair, I would be able to choose any damned thing I wanted for him. Your choices… he’s a science experiment, either way.”

The door opened. “Okay, you’ve had your pitch.”

She stared at the figure there, eyes widening, heart racing, she could hear it on the monitor, beeping like mad. _It couldn’t be!_

Emil tried to push him out the door. “I told you to stay out. This is just going to upset her.”

“It’s also going to put an end to your nonsense. She’s obviously going to refuse to choose,” Lex said impatiently, eyes moving from Emil to her. “So we’ll choose for her.”

She just kept staring at Lex, pulling at the wires, hoisting herself out of the bed, panic taking over as she picked up the fallen chair. “You stay away from me!”

“Sedate her,” she heard Emil call out before a large man and woman crowded through the door.

The room went red as they approached and she dropped the chair and pushed at them. One of them went through the window, but she couldn’t see the woman… but she felt something behind her, felt a slight prick at her neck as the room went from red to black


	22. Technically not a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an announcement

I know some people might be wondering where I've gone off to, but the truth is I've felt a lack of motivation to finish my Smallville fic for some time now, between family issues and the general deadness of the fandom. It just felt like a chore and, with the show long over, no one seemed to be on tenterhooks anyway, mostly having moved on to other fandoms.

I had started writing on it again late last summer after things calmed down in my family, but when the news came about about Allison Mack last fall, it made it hard for me to want to write any fic involving Chloe. And because I always felt that underdog sort of kinship, rooting for the character and, to an extent, the actress, all of my fic involved Chloe and the various ships.

TBH, I'd heard these rumors some years ago, but didn't credit them. I knew about her involvement in the cult, but I thought it was just some dumb guru's pyramid scheme and maybe she'd wise up one day. I didn't think the more licentious rumors were true. I thought the source of it all was just some guy with a blog and an axe to grind. But now that victims are speaking out to legitimate news outlets, it's hard to call these rumors or alleged. The fact that she continues to tweet and post and ignore the situation is also really angering.

Maybe some day I'll finish this and my other WIPS and archive my other fics here, but I can't say when because it's too hard for me to separate the actress from the character. I do feel sorry for whatever is broken in her that makes her both a victim and an abuser but, unless Mack leaves this organization and makes amends for her part in victimizing other women, I will forever have negative feelings about her and Chloe.

I just plain don't want to write fic under that kind of cloud.

I have moved on to writing original works and have started posting one here. If anyone is interested in seeing more of my original stuff, feel free to contact me. I know we aren't suppose to promote our real works here.

April


End file.
